WindyCityRomanceBlues:TheBalladofMacandClaire
by JillSwinburne
Summary: How Mac met Claire, how they got together and what life was like for them before the world fell apart.
1. Coming Home

**Hey folks, I'm back again with a longer story this time. First of all some explanations and housekeeping.**

**Setting: the main body of this story is before 9/11 back when Mac was still in the marines. The bits in itallics are a conversation between Mac and a psychologist from ATVA some time after 9/11 (possibly even directly after the events of Blink), but don't worry it doesn't jump aorund too much.**

**Title: I went through a whole bunch of suggestions but nothing seemed to fit and then I hot on the idea of making it a song title and this came up, it's meant to sound like one of those bluesy or bluegrass story songs. **

**Dedication: this is very much dedicated to my wonderful beta MissDillyDilly who has been thoroughly awesome, reading over the chapters and putting in suggestions and corrections for me. I'd also like to dedicate this to Andorian Ice Princess and CSIMinute who have been extremely kind and deserve a good yarn and the ever wonderful lily moonlight - thanks for all your support ladies, I only hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoy your own work.**

**Discalimer: Mac isn't mine (oh how it pains me to admit that), however most of the other characters are, especially Betsy lol :D**

**oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo**

**Windy City Romance Blues: The Ballad of Mac and Claire**

**Chapter 1: Coming Home**

_He looks around the room, uncertain of his surrounding, uncertain of the man sitting opposite him; prematurely grey hair, large eyes, gentle voice._

"_So would you rather I call you Mac or Mr Taylor?"_

"_I'd rather you call me Detective."_

"_Do you know where you are?"_

"_Yes."_

"_Then you know what we do here?"_

"_Yes."_

"_Tell me about your wife Mr Taylor."_

_He doesn't correct him, just sitting silently for a moment or two._

"_What do you want to know."_

"_What do you want to tell me?"_

"_I'd rather not tell you anything."_

"_I know."_

_There's silence for another little while._

"_When did you meet her?"_

" _Friday, 19__th__ October, 1986, a little after 10pm."_

"_That's pretty specific."  
"I'm a pretty specific person."_

"_Alright, tell me about the 19__th__ of October, where were you?"_

"_Home on leave."_

"_On leave?"_

"_I was a marine."_

"_I see. So where's home?"_

"_Chicago."_

"_Were you staying with family?"_

"_My mom."_

_The other man leans back in his chair, throwing his pen down in front of him. He shrugs._

"_So, tell me about it."_

**oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo**

It was one of those rare warm days later in the year and the sun was shining as the plane landed. Mac Taylor looked out of the window and smiled; it was good to be home, even if it was only for a few weeks. He'd been on tour in the Middle East for the last four months and all that dry heat and sand had made him homesick for a little cold wind and maybe even some rain.

He grabbed his hand-luggage from the overhead storage and made his way down the aisle towards the door. One of the air-hostesses batted her eyelashes at him as he passed and he smiled at her. He was still wearing his fatigues and everyone knew the girls loved a soldier.

Even at sixty four degrees Fahrenheit, the average high for Chicago in October, he still felt cold after the desert. He wished he had an extra sweater with him.

He picked up the rest of his bags off the carousel and headed out to the taxi rank, giving the driver the address before sinking back once more to stare out of the window as the city slid past. But he couldn't relax for long, his mind already running through its list of things he needed to do while he was here, people he needed to see and places he needed to go.

It seemed like no time before the cab pulled to a halt in front of a small house with a low brown fence around the front garden.

Mac paid the guy and climbed out, but his arrival had not gone unnoticed. With a grumbling growl a small elderly spaniel came limping around the corner of the house and barked at the sight of him.

Mac smiled and leaned over the fence to let the dumb thing snuffle at him and lick his fingers.

"Hey Betsy," he said quietly, "where's mom?"

The dog barked again, as if trying to answer him.

"Oh hush Betsy or you'll wake that baby across the street again," said another voice, following the dog around the corner but its owner stopped when she saw him.

"Hey mom," said Mac, sidling through the front gate and closing it behind him.

The woman in front of him beamed, pulling him down for a hug.

"It's good to have you home sweetie," she told him, kissing him on the cheek.

"It's good to see you," he replied.

The dog barked again.

"You too Betsy," he added, making his mother laugh.

Moira Taylor was a small woman; salt and pepper hair in a short bob, blue eyes and cheeks like a Russian doll. It was really quite comical to see her much taller son bending over her to kiss her cheek and wrap an arm around her shoulders as she shepherded him into the house, the dog trundling along behind: comical, but touching.

"I've got your room all made up," said Moira as they entered the house. "And Uncle Fred called earlier, said he'll be over some time soon and he'll take us all out to dinner one night."

"That's nice mom."

"Are you tired sweetie?"

"Not really, hungry though."

"Well you go on up and I'll rustle up some sandwiches, that alright?"

"Great."

She stood on her toes to kiss his cheek once more before bustling off in the direction of the kitchen, Betsy at her heels. Mac smiled at her retreating figure, some things never changed.

Upstairs his room sat waiting for him, the same room he'd had his entire life, although the model airplanes and American flag bedspread had disappeared over time, but knowing his mother they were somewhere in the attic. The window looked out over the back garden and the other houses beyond. He unpacked as much as he could, changing before heading back downstairs.

In the kitchen he ate sandwiches while listening to his mother's news. He knew most of it already from her letters but was happy to listen to her rabbit on in her cheerful way while he snuck pieces of meat to the dog beneath the table.

"Mac stop that, she's fat enough as it is!"

He only chuckled, petting the poor thing on the head.

"Oh and Tucker called while you were upstairs."

"He did?"

"Yes, said he wants to take you out on the town tonight. I told him he better get his ass over here and have a good meal before he takes you anywhere. He'll be here at six."

Mac laughed again, amazing the power a man's mother could have over his friends.

Tucker of course was late, it was practically a tradition.

"I ought to make you drop and give me twenty," he called from the front step as his friend strolled up the garden path.

"You've been in the marines too long," came the reply.

They shared one of those brief man-hugs favoured by tough men who like to show a little bit of emotion now and then.

"How you been bro'?" asked Tucker punching him lightly on the arm.

"Same old. You?"

"Hey, you know me."

"All too well."

They laughed. Mac and Tucker had been friends since high school when they'd both been on the wrestling team. These days Tuck worked at his dad's body shop and spent his spare time cruising around in old 1950's Cadillac he'd restored.

"This thing is like Grease Lightening," he'd say. "Ain't no better way to pick up women."

"Well you sure weren't going to grab 'em with your personality," was Mac's usual reply, although Mac would be the first to admit that Tucker was the more visually striking of the two of them, standing at over six feet tall with his powerful build and gleaming smile.

"That you Tucker?" asked Moira coming out of the kitchen.

"Sure is Mrs T."

He leaned down to plant a kiss on her cheek.

"You make me something nice for dinner?" he joked and she whacked him lightly.

"Now don't you start," she replied. "And don't you be getting my Mac too drunk tonight; this is just his first night home, I'd be obliged if he remembered it."

"Don't you worry Mrs T, I'll take good care of him."

Mac laughed, following his mother and his friend into the kitchen.

"The day you look after me is the day snowmen dance in hell."

Tucker tried to look innocent but it didn't work.

"Oh settle down you two," chastised Moira and the two men nodded obediently, sitting down at the table like a couple of naughty schoolboys.

It was good to be home, thought Mac.


	2. First Meetings

**Hey folks, back again. Thanks for all the reviews I got on chapter 1, I only hope you like the rest of the story as much. I'm going to try and post once a week, probably on a Sunday, so I can keep far enough ahead with the writing.**

**A little note about Claire, I know she's supposed to have curly brown hair but to me that was the producers looking for a legitimate reason for Reed to mistake Stella for Claire. It makes Claire too much like Stella and I've always thought they would look very different so please don't take offence at Claire's appearence, this is the way I picture her.**

**Anyway, hope you liker this chapter :D**

**Chapter 2: First Meetings**

Archie's was quiet for a Friday night, although a few familiar faces nodded at them as they entered. Tucker bought a round and they leant against the bar.

"To coming home," said Tuck, raising his beer to chink with Mac.

"To home," he replied with a smile.

"How long you back for this time?" continued Tucker.

"Just two weeks."

"Ouch, in that case we got a whole lot of drinkin' to get through."

He tipped his head back, chugging his beer while Mac only laughed at him.

"How's Tasha?" he asked.

"Man you are way behind on the news."

"No more Tasha huh?"

"Nope, I am free as the breeze."

He scanned the room and grinned in the direction of a couple of girls in the corner.

"Hungry too," he said, winking at Mac who only rolled his eyes.

"Angela speak to you lately?"

Tucker's eyebrows went up.

"Angela? I thought she dumped your dumb ass?"

Mac smirked.

"Man you are way behind on the news," he repeated, making Tuck pull a face. "She took me back."

"You called her?"

"From the base, day before yesterday."

"Man, you are grade A stupid. That girl is bad news."

"Yeah, you've been telling me that about every girl I was interested in since high school."

"And I'm always right!"

"Give me a break Tuck."

Tucker shook his head at him.

"Mac, you may be the smart one, but when it comes to women you got a lot to learn."

"Thank you Don Juan. Just drink your beer and try not to pout too much when Angela shows up."

Tuck put his beer down on the counter and fixed Mac with a look of disbelief.

"Angie's coming here? Tonight?"

"Should be here any minute now; fixed it with her when I called her."

"I wondered why you wanted to come here tonight." Tucker shook his head again, picking up his beer once more. "Just don't come crying to me man," he muttered but Mac was still smirking.

Tucker and Angela never did get along too well although he never really understood why. Under different circumstances Angie would have been just Tuck's type; wavy brown hair, pouting lips, and the rest of her wasn't too bad either. She did have a temper though; she and Mac had had a blazing row the last time he'd been home and it had taken several apologetic letters before she'd deigned to reply and even then it had been a short note on the back of post-card telling him to call her when he got back to civilisation.

Tucker was grinning at the girls in the corner again and one of them beckoned him with a painted fingernail.

"Be right back," he said, patting him lightly on the shoulder.

Mac didn't really mind. Tucker was never the type to play third wheel; he was entitled to his fun. Mac merely smiled and turned his attention back to the beer in front of him.

Tucker had been gone only a few minutes when he felt more than saw someone sidle up to the bar next to him.

"Hey," said a female voice and he turned around with a smile.

It wasn't Angela; it was one of the girls from the table Tucker had gone to, a blonde with short bobbed hair and clear blue eyes.

"Oh, hi," he replied, trying not to sound too disappointed.

"You know your buddy's getting pretty comfortable with us," she said. "I thought you might like to join us."

He shook his head slightly.

"No thanks, I'm waiting for someone."

She moved a little closer, although her smile was friendly rather than predatory.

"Well I hate to see you sitting here by yourself. Why not just sit with us till your friend shows up?" she said sweetly.

"Look," he said, not wanting to look her right in the eye, "I'm waiting for my girlfriend so…"

He left it hanging but much to his surprise her smile didn't falter.

"You always assume women are hitting on you because they want to talk to you?" she asked a little dryly.

Mac instantly felt the blush spread across his face.

"Oh, I just… sorry, I,"

"It's okay," she laughed, saving him from his temporary inability to speak. "Here, let me buy you a drink."

"Sorry," he managed. "I really am waiting for my girlfriend though."

"I believe you." She was still laughing. "But I'm still going to buy you a drink."

The bartender had wandered over by then and she nodded to Mac's bottle.

"Another of those and a vodka and lemonade."  
The guy nodded and moved away again. The blonde turned back to him and put out a hand.

"Claire Conrad," she said.

Mac hesitated a second before taking her hand, momentarily surprised by the firm shake she gave him.

"Mac Taylor," he said.

She smiled.

"Nice to meet you Mac Taylor."

The bartender came back with their drinks and she paid, ignoring his minor protest.

"Sure I can't convince you to join us?" she asked, indicating her table again where Tucker had one arm around each of her two companions.

But Mac could see the clock over the bar, Angela would be here soon.

"I really shouldn't," he said. "I have to wait."

She nodded.

"Alright," she said and gave him a little smile. "But do me favour?"

"What?"

"If she doesn't show, come join us."

"Thanks but she'll show."

"Okay."  
She began to walk away but turned back when she was only a few steps away.

"Oh and by the way, I _was_ hitting on you before."

Mac could only blink in silence as she laughed lightly once more.

"Nice meeting you Mac Taylor."

And with that she turned away again and went back to her table, sitting down and immediately joining in their conversation, her bright laugh bubbling over the noise of the jukebox.

Mac couldn't help smiling to himself as he turned back to the bar, taking a swig of his beer as he watched the clock on the wall. Angie would be here soon.

But half an hour later she wasn't there and half an hour after that she still hadn't shown up. He could see Tucker throwing him pitying looks in the mirror behind the bar but he didn't turn around.

Pulling a couple of quarters from his pocket he tried the pay-phone near the rest-room but there was no answer at her apartment.

On his way back to the bar he ran into Tucker.

"Hey Mac, me and the girls were gonna take in that new club a couple of blocks over, you wanna join?"

But Mac shook his head.

"No thanks Tuck, it's been a long day, think I'll head home."

Tucker nodded and patted him lightly on the shoulder.

"I'll see you soon okay," he said. "Swing by the shop tomorrow, you know my dad gets a kick outta seeing you."

"Will do. See you later Tuck."

He watched his friend head for the exit where the two girls were waiting for him.

Frowning slightly he looked across at the table they had vacated. The blonde was still sitting there, slowly stirring her drink with a swizzle stick, staring at the bubbles which rose to the surface. She looked lost in thought.

"Hey," he said softly, drawing alongside her table.

She blinked, snapping out of her little reverie and smiling at him.

"Hey there," she said before frowning a little. "She didn't show huh?"

"No. Mind if I sit down?"

"Go ahead."

He took the seat across from her.

"How come you didn't go with your friends?" he asked.

Her smile slid back onto her face.

"And watch them grind all over your buddy, no thanks. Besides, I have to work tomorrow."

"What do you do?" he asked and she pulled a face.

"I'm a realtor," she said. "How about you?"

"I'm in the marines," he told her and she grinned.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"My, aren't you full of surprises."

"Am I?"

She only smiled at him.

The scrape of chairs and chink of glass announced that it was almost closing time and she rose.

"You know, it's a little late for you to pay me back by buying me a drink," she said. "But maybe you could hail me a cab instead."

He smiled back at her and got up, letting her lead the way to the door and holding it open for her.

Outside the warm weather from that afternoon had turned to a severe chill and she wrapped her arms around herself and stamped her feet as she stood on the curb while he ventured into the street to find an empty cab. When he finally managed to get one he held the door open for her.

"Well, as I said before, it was nice to meet you Mac Taylor," she said with another grin.

"You too. Maybe we'll run into each other again and I can buy you that drink."

"You never know."

And then she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek softly. Mac stood stock still and stared at her while she laughed at him once more.

"Night," she called, sliding into the cab and closing the door behind her.

Mac watched as the cab pulled off down the street and around the corner. He looked down at his shoes then back up at where the cab had disappeared as a slow smile slid onto his face.


	3. Build Me Up and Let Me Down

**Slightly longer chapter this one. We finally meet the famous Angela and find out of Tucker was right about her ;D**

**No Claire in this one but I hope you enjoy it anyway.**

* * *

**Chapter 3: Build Me Up and Let Me Down**

"_She sounds pretty direct."_

"_You could say that."_

_The ghost of a smile flits across his face._

"_So you were seeing someone else at the time?"_

_The smile vanishes._

"_Yes."_

"_You said her name was Angela."_

"_Yes."_

"_Had you been together long?"_

"_A few months, but I'd been away."  
"On duty?"_

"_Yes."_

"_I see. So, it's your first night home, your girlfriend stands you up and you meet a nice girl in a bar. What happened then?"_

"_I went home."_

_The other man gives a sarcastic look. "Funny. What happened the next day?"_

_He looks down at his hands._

"_I went to see Angela."_

"_Okay then, so tell me about Angela."_

* * *

Angie's roommate answered the door.

"Oh, it's you," she said dully. "I didn't know you were back."

"Nice to see you too Chris," he replied dryly, but she made no move to open the door.

"Is Angela home?" he asked and she sighed.

"Yeah," she said opening the door wider to let him through.

"Angie!" she called down the hallway, closing the door behind him and disappearing into the kitchen.

Angela's head appeared around the door of her room, dark hair framing her face.

"Mac!" she said in surprise, carefully plucked eyebrows arching delicately. "What are you doing here?"

"Everyone's so pleased to see me," he said as she slid out from the doorway and came towards him.

"Of course I'm pleased to see you," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I just wasn't expecting you is all. But seeing as you're here…"

She kissed him, her body pressed tightly against his and he found himself returning her embrace, momentarily forgetting he was supposed to be pissed at her. When his brain kicked in again he pulled away from her, frowning slightly.

"What's wrong?" she asked, a little annoyed.

"You stood me up last night Angie," he said, letting go of her completely.

She blinked at him a couple of times.

"I did?" she asked blankly.

"Yeh. I waited at Archie's for over an hour."

Remembrance flooded her face.

"Oh, that was last night?" she asked taking a small step back.

"Yes it was last night! Damn it Angie, I only spoke to you a couple of days ago!"

She looked up at him with big doe eyes and, although he knew she was faking, he felt like a heel for yelling. Her fingertips touched his chest, sliding up to his shoulders as her body returned to press against his.

"Aw baby, I'm sorry" she murmured, kissing him once again before pressing her lips against his ear. "Why don't you come on through and let me make it up to you," she whispered, nibbling lightly on his earlobe, her body pressing more tightly against his.

"I'm supposed to meet Tucker," he managed to mumble as she began to trail little kisses along his jaw.

"Tucker can wait," she hissed, wrapping her hands around the back of his neck and digging her nails into the soft flesh below his hair-line, making him groan and tighten his grip on her.

"Angie, please," he tried and she sighed, drawing back slightly.

"Look Mac, you can go see your friend and drink beer and look at cars and talk about the same old shit you always talk about, or you can stay here and have your brains screwed out. Now which do you think is a better way to spend the afternoon?"

Ordinarily Mac Taylor was not the sort of man to be easily seduced away from an arranged appointment, especially not with a close friend; on the other hand he had been in the desert for nearly five months without so much as a picture of her for company, and it wasn't like Tucker hadn't been known to take a rain-check for the sake of a little nookie before now. So, just this once, Mac gave in and pulling her roughly up into his arms he strode back down the hall and into her room, the door slamming behind them.

***

It was late that evening when he finally called on Tucker. The shop was already closed so he went to the house; a cramped bungalow with a high wooden fence around the back yard and a dilapidated shack for a garage where Tucker housed his baby. Mac often thought that the reason Tucker could never keep a girl was because he was too in love with that damn car.

Tucker's father opened the door; a shorter, broader version of his son with rough hands and deep-set lines criss-crossing his face.

"Mac?" he said with a smile. "How you been, kid?"

"I'm good sir."

"You ever gonna call me Rick?"

"Probably not sir."

The older man laughed.

"Come on in, Tucker's in the back. You want a beer?"

"Thanks."

They sat in the yard and talked for a few hours, the bright porch light illuminating their little circle. Rick quizzed Mac on the places he'd visited since the last time he'd seen him. Mac asked about the shop, the family.

"How's Allison?" he asked.

"Good, she called last weekend. She's got a new job, selling make-up door-to-door for one of those companies."

"Sounds nice."

"Yeah, Mike bought her a new car for her birthday; little foreign thing, looks kinda like a bug. Not what I would have bought but then Mike never did know jack about cars."

Rick took another swig of his beer and Mac couldn't help but chuckle. The mechanical failings of his ex-wife's new husband were a constant source of amusement to Rick. Mac looked at Tucker who had been quiet all evening but he was too busy scuffing the dust with his feet to share the joke.

"Anyway," said Rick, draining his bottle. "I'm gonna turn in. Good to see you kid, swing round before you head off again."

"Will do sir."

"Lock up when you come in Tuck."

Tucker nodded silently as his father finally rose and wandered back inside, letting the door swing shut behind him, leaving the two friends in silence in their little circle of light.

"What's up Tuck?" asked Mac eventually.

"Nothin', just I was kind of expectin' to see you at the shop this afternoon."

Mac sighed and looked down at his hands.

"Yeah," he murmured. "I got kind of held up."

"With Angela." It wasn't a question.

"Yeah, with Angela." Mac frowned slightly at his friend. "That a problem?"

"It is when you start not showin' up when you say you will."

Mac rolled his eyes.

"Oh come on, it's not like you haven't run out on me before for a girl."

"Not without tellin' you first," he retorted.

Mac hadn't realised Tucker would be so sore about the whole thing.

"Look Tuck, I'm sorry I didn't show this afternoon. If I'd known you'd get upset about it…," he trailed off as Tucker looked up at him.

"Upset! Mac, you think I'm pissed because you blew me off ?"

"Aren't you?"

Tucker gave a frustrated grunt and stood up, the bottle in his hand waving through the air.

"I'm not pissed Mac, I'm concerned."

"Concerned about what?"

"You. Mac, we went out last night and you spent the entire time sitting at the bar, waiting for a girl who never showed, and then today you blow me off just so you can go see her, without even a word!"

Mac's jaw tightened.

"So this is about Angela?" he said, standing now too, planting himself opposite Tucker.

"Maybe it is, but it's about what she's doing to you; you're a mess man! You know you sent me one letter the entire time you were away, just one! You used to write me all the time, even when you didn't have nothing to write about; and then I find out you're writing Angela every other day! You called her from the base to tell her when you were coming home and I had to find out from your mom: that's not you man, that's not my best friend! That bitch has you wound around her little finger and one day she's gonna let you go and you're gonna realise you got nobody left to pick up the pieces!"

Tucker was yelling now and Mac could only throw his bottle down in the dust.

"Don't talk about Angela like that," he yelled back.

"Come on Mac, she isn't worth it."

"And I guess you would know all about that wouldn't you? Hell, you've practically got a girl for every day of the week!"

"Actually I would know! I didn't want to have to throw it in your face but if you're gonna be so pig headed about it I guess I don't have much of a choice."

"What are you talking about?"

"She's sleepin' around Mac!"

Mac stopped.

"What?" he whispered.

Tucker sighed, wiping a hand through his hair and taking a breath.

"Angela; she's been sleepin' around while you were gone. She isn't worth it Mac, she… she's not," he tailed off, looking away.

They stood in silence once more.

"How?" asked Mac after a few minutes.

Tucker continued to stare at the dust, scuffing it with his toe.

"How did you know, Tucker?" he asked again, more loudly.

"Because it was me!"

Mac felt sick, like someone had punched him in the stomach.

"You!" he choked out.

Tucker wouldn't look at him.

"Tucker!" he yelled. "What the hell happened?"

"She told me you were through!" Tucker looked as though he was about to throw up, or cry. "She came into Archie's once night about a month or so ago and started hitting on me; she said you and her were through for good and she wanted to have a little fun; I figured…"

He didn't have time to finish. Mac marched across the yard and slammed his fist hard into Tucker's face. Tucker went down with a grunt of pain but he didn't bother trying to defend himself. Mac stood over him, glaring down on him.

"You son of a bitch," he hissed.

"I'm sorry," mumbled Tucker, the side of his face already beginning to swell.

"Don't speak to me," Mac hissed again, hot tears pricking the backs of his eyes. "Don't speak to me again."

He turned and left the yard, the gate snapping shut behind him. He strode into the street, his face burning with a mixture of anger and shame. He stopped at the end of the street, fists clenching and unclenching.

How could Tucker do that to him? How could Angela? A little over a month ago, that was after she'd sent him the note. Dammit!

He had to see her.

***

"Mac, it's three in the God damn morning, what the hell do you want?"

He'd been standing in the corridor, hammering against the door and calling her name for nearly ten minutes. There had been shouts from the neighbouring apartments, even threats to call the police but he'd ignored them all and now she was glaring at him in the dim light of the hallway.

"Did you sleep with Tucker?"

Her dark eyes went wide and her jaw went tight even as she plastered a fake smile across her face.

"Mac, baby come on inside."

"Did you sleep with Tucker?" he choked out again, holding back the urge grab hold of her and shake the truth out of her.

"Mac…"

"Did you!"

She pursed her lips, arms folding over her chest, one hip stuck out.

"Alright, yes I did."

Her defiant tone knocked the wind out of him for the second time that night.

"Why?" he whispered.

She threw her hands up.

"What the hell Mac! You've been gone for months; did you think I was just gonna sit around and pine for you?"

"I thought you could wait a little."  
"For what, the couple of weeks you spend at home three times a year? Get a grip Mac!"

He leant back against the wall, staring at her.

"Do you," he began but his mouth was dry and he licked his lips. "Did you ever care about me?"

She sighed, taking a step towards him.

"Yes," she said a little more softly.

"Then why?"

"Because you weren't around," she replied sharply, tilting her head up defiantly.

"Is that it?"

She shrugged slightly.

"It was convenient," she paused, "just like you were."

He shook his head, turning his back to her and stumbling down the corridor while the neighbours peered at him through their peepholes and Angela stood framed in the doorway, watching him go with a vague look of disappointment on her face.

When he finally got home he slammed the door, cursing angrily.

He fumbled through the dark until he reached the living room, collapsing onto the sofa, his head in his hands. There he sat, weeping hot tears, wiping them away with the heels of his hands.

"Mac?"

The light on the landing went on and his mother appeared at the foot of the stairs.

"Mac sweetie, what is it?"

She crossed the room to sit beside him, pulling him into her arms as though he were still a child. He let her hold him close, stroking his hair and rocking him gently, taking comfort from the one place an injured boy can always take comfort from; the loving arms of his mother.


	4. Making Up is Hard to Do

**Hey folks, time for another update. A bit shorter this time but there's more Claire in this one so that should cheer everyone up a bit :D**

**Let me knowha what you think.**

**A/N the think about the Catholic services finishing first is a true story I got from my best friend's ex who is in the navy ;)**

* * *

**Chapter 4: Making Up is Hard to Do**

"Come on Mac, it's time for church."

Mac didn't reply, still staring glumly into his cereal.

"Mac!"

His mother was stood right in front of him, hands on hips, determined look on her face.

"Come on, we have to go."

Mac wanted to roll his eyes but didn't. His mother wasn't really all that religious; she hadn't made him go to Sunday school or bible group when he was a kid. If there was a religious nut in the family it had been grandma but she'd died when he was only a baby so he had been spared her own peculiar brand of mania.

When his father died Mac worried that his mom might become more zealous but in truth she was far too sensible to be overly religious; if she believed in anything it was that God helped those who helped themselves. A couple of hours psalm singing on a Sunday was as much as she felt the Almighty should require by way of assurance of her belief.

Of course there were services in the marines. While at training camp Mac had discovered that the true virtue of Catholicism was that they were the first congregation to be released from their service and so got first stab at the coffee and doughnuts laid on in the break room on a Sunday morning. In the field, services were more random although he still made an effort to attend; there was something strangely comforting in the repetition of a familiar task that he enjoyed.

But this morning Mac was in no mood for hymns and prayers.

"I really don't feel like it," he said, knowing he sounded like some sort of moody teen.

His mother glared at him.

"Church," she said. "Now."

He gave in.

It did not escape general notice that Moira Taylor's son was once more home on leave and after the service Mac found himself surrounded by various members of the congregation anxious to ask him how he was and how long was he home for and had he heard from so and so since he got back?

Eventually he managed to extricate himself without causing too much offence and wandered off towards town, promising he'd be home for supper. His mother didn't stop him; she knew he needed a little space to think.

He ended up back at Archie's late in the afternoon, leaning up against the bar, staring into his beer. This was not turning into a great trip home, he thought to himself.

"You look a little glum," said a voice and he turned, smiling slightly when he saw who it was.

"Hello," he said.

"Hi," replied Claire, leaning against the bar beside him. "What's up, still waiting for the invisible girlfriend?" she joked.

Mac looked back down at his beer.

"She's no longer my girlfriend," he said quietly.

"Ah." She was silent for a minute or two. "Am I allowed to ask what happened or would you rather not talk about it?"

"She slept with my best friend," he said by way of reply.

She raised her eyebrows.

"You mean Tucker; the guy you were here with the other night?"

"Yeah."

She frowned.

"I didn't think he liked your girlfriend."

It was Mac's turn to frown as he looked at her.

"How did you know that?"

She blushed.

"I uh, kinda asked him about you and her the other night."

Mac smiled at her momentary embarrassment.

"Oh really?" he said, seeing her blush deepen at his teasing tone.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up wise guy," she muttered.

Mac grinned.

"Sorry," he said lightly. "Hey, don't I owe you a drink?"

"Yeah you do."

She ordered and they took their drinks over to one of the side tables.

"What are you doing here on a Sunday afternoon anyway?" he asked as they sat down.

"Urgh! Avoiding dinner with my parents."

"That bad huh?"

"You have no idea. Still, I guess it seems kinda childish."

Mac shook his head.

"I guess we're both hiding out," he murmured.

Claire looked at him intently for a few minutes, blonde head cocked a little to one side.

"He really slept with her?" she asked eventually.

Mac nodded silently and she shook her head.

"He seemed like a decent guy," she said sadly.

"He is," he murmured.

"He tell you why he did it?" she asked and Mac looked away.

"I didn't really give him a chance," he said.

When he turned back she was looking at him with expectant eyebrows.

"I hit him," he explained.

In truth that was what bothered him the most. He'd always known deep down that Angela was a flake, but he hadn't even given Tucker the benefit of the doubt, he'd just ploughed in there like the kind of testosterone fuelled stereotypical dumb marine he'd always sworn he wasn't.

He stared down at his hands in shame. Claire was probably looking at him in disgust. But he looked up in surprise when one of her small hands reached across the table and closed over his.

She was giving him a soft smile and squeezed his hand as she spoke.

"You should go talk to Tucker," she said gently.

"I should."

"You should."

He looked at her, her bright eyes and soft smile, all full of concern.

"Thanks," he whispered and she squeezed his hand again before letting go.

"Any time," she said as he stood.

"You gonna be okay by yourself?" he asked and she grinned at him.

"I'll be fine. Go on now."

And with that she shooed him out the door, smiling after him.

***

The side of Tucker's jaw was black and swollen when he opened the door and Mac felt even worse than he had before.

"Hey Tuck," he said, his throat a little dry.

"Hey," was the slightly thick reply.

"You uh, mind if I come in?"

"Sure."

Tucker stood to one side, letting him pass, closing the door behind him as they headed through to the kitchen.

"Where's your dad?" asked Mac.

"Went into the shop to get some parts."

Mac nodded. "How's your jaw?"

"Hurts like hell but you didn't break nothin'." Tucker managed a slightly pained smile. "You must be goin' soft," he said and Mac managed to raise a smile in return.

"I'm sorry Tuck," he said gently.

"Don't worry about it."

"I mean it."

"I know you do."

There was silence for a little while but some of the heaviness had gone.

"I'm sorry about Angela," said Tucker. "Mac I swear to you, I never would've given in to her if I thought she was gonna take you back, but she said you were through for good."

Mac nodded glumly. "Yeah," he whispered.

"It was just the once you know," continued Tucker. "And I felt like crap for days after but I figured that if the two of you were really over and you never found out then…" he trailed off.

"No harm, no foul right?" said Mac.

Tucker swore.

"I'm sorry Mac, I really am. The other night when you told me the two of you were back together I wanted the ground to swallow me right then and there. I wanted to tell you but I knew you'd be pissed and I knew Angela would probably try and spin it…" he trailed off again.

"She didn't," said Mac quietly. "She gave me a straight answer." He sighed. "Probably the first one she's ever given me."

"I'm sorry man," said Tucker again.

"Me too," said Mac. "Sorry I was such an ass about the whole thing." He gave him a small smile. "I guess maybe I should listen when you give me advice about women," he said and Tucker gave another painful grin.

"It's what I keep tellin' you," he said.

There was another, lighter silence for a moment or two.

"So," said Tucker eventually, "we good?"

Mac nodded.

"Yeah," he said, "we're good."

Tucker breathed a sigh of relief.

"Good," he looked down at the ground. "Don't know what I'd do without you man; you're my best friend."

"You too man," replied Mac.

They hugged briefly, Mac patting his friend on the back. But they broke apart when the kitchen door opened and Tucker's father walked in.

"So you two made up huh?" he asked, grinning at the two younger men who looked away in embarrassment. "Good," continued Rick. "You stayin' for dinner Mac?" he asked but Mac shook his head.

"Thanks, but I promised my mom I'd be home."

"Okay, see you around kid," said Rick as Mac turned to go. "Oh and kid!"

Mac turned around.

"Not that I don't doubt you had your reasons but I'd appreciate it if you didn't use my son's face as a punching bag."

Mac blushed.

"Sorry sir," he murmured.

"I told you I got drunk and fell over," said Tucker in shock, staring at his father who only laughed at him.

"Tucker, you got a lousy poker face," Rick replied.


	5. Flowers and Burgers

**Busy tomorrow so posting this chapter a little early for you. Hope you enjoy, thanks for all the reviews so far.**

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**Chapter 5: Flowers and Burgers**

"You look happier," said Moira as her son sauntered into the kitchen, leaning down to scratch Betsy behind the ears as he did so.

"I spoke to Tucker," he said.

She raised her eyebrows.

"You did?"

"What?" he said, amused by her surprise.

She shook her head.

"I thought it would be a couple of days before you cooled down enough to talk to him is all."

Mac shrugged slightly, crossing to the sink to wash his hands.

"I had a little encouragement," he said.

His mother leaned back against the cabinet, eyeing him curiously.

"From who?" she asked.

"Just someone I met at Archie's," he murmured, keeping his back to her. "How long until dinner?"

"Five minutes. Who was it?"

"Just some woman."

"A woman huh?"

"Mom."

She raised her hands in defeat.

"Okay, okay!"

She turned away to finish getting dinner ready and Mac smirked to himself behind her back. He caught sight of his reflection in the darkened window; what was he smirking about? Claire?

Leaning back against the sink he thought about Claire. She was nice; hell she was very nice! But he had just broken up with Angela, was he really ready to move on so quickly? Besides, what made him think a girl like Claire would want him; although she did admit she had been flirting with him that first night, and then there was her embarrassment earlier that day when she'd told him how she'd asked Tucker about his relationship with Angela.

"Mac honey, you okay?"

Mac shook himself, coming out of his thoughts to see his mother's raised eyebrow.

"I'm fine."

She didn't question him, smiling instead. Mac felt like she knew exactly what, or rather who, he had been thinking about.

"Dinner's ready," was all she said.

Still, he thought as he sat down at the table, he should really make an effort to thank Claire. His mother was right, if not for her it would most likely have taken him several days to calm down enough to even think about talking to Tucker, during which time he would have been thoroughly miserable. But he didn't know where she lived and he couldn't just hang around the bar for the next two weeks in the vain hope that she would show up again.

But as he ate a plan began to form in his mind and he found himself smiling again. He didn't notice his mother watching him, a smile of her own touching her face.

***

Claire Conrad breezed into her office. It was Tuesday and she'd only had one appointment so far but even that had been enough to put her in a bad mood.

"There's something on your desk for you," called Cindy as she passed.

Claire frowned as she made her way to her little cubicle at the back of the office; the downside of being a junior estate agent, her desk was as far away from any source of natural light as it was possible to get.

The frown cleared as she entered her little area and saw the flowers on her desk; nothing fancy, just a collection of brightly coloured blooms that gave off a pleasant scent and injected a little colour into her dull little corner of the office. There was no card.

She reached out and plucked one of the flowers, holding it lightly between her fingers as she brought it to her nose and smiled.

"You like them?" said someone behind her and she turned to see Mac Taylor leaning against the wall.

She smiled and looked him over, her eyes reflecting her smile as she looked him over appreciatively, her eyes lingering on his muscular upper arms which were visible through his blue shirt.

Returning the favour his own eyes ran up and down her form. She looked good in her skirt suit, all crisp and clean, her blonde hair shining in the fluorescent light overhead.

"They're beautiful," she replied. "Thanks."

"I just wanted to thank you for the other day," he said.

"I take it you and your friend made up?"

"Yeah, thanks to you."

She shook her head, flashing him a grin.

"I just gave the advice, you took it. What about your girlfriend?"

Mac grimaced and she laughed.

"I get the picture," she said. "But how did you find me?"

Mac smirked slightly, a little proud of himself.

"I asked Tucker about those two girls you were with on Friday night. He said you all work together; one of them gave him a business card with her number on the back, I just copied the address."

She was grinning at him again.

"I said you were full of surprises," she said.

Mac looked at the floor, not sure what to do now.

"Well, I'm glad you like the flowers," he said lamely, turning to go.

"Hey!" she called and he stopped, turning to look at her again.

She was blushing slightly but she looked quite determined.

"I have a meeting this afternoon I'm supposed to look over some stuff for."

Mac frowned, what did that have to do with him?

She smiled.

"You want to distract me over lunch?"

Mac's face spread into a broad grin.

"Sure," he said.

Grinning back at him she grabbed up her purse and her coat before sliding her arm through his.

"So," she said, "where are you taking me?"

***

_"Where did you go?"_

_"Burger joint around the corner from her office."_

_"Classy."_

_A soft smile touches his face._

_"She used to eat lunch there three or four times a week; cheeseburger with onions, chilli and coleslaw, no ketchup, piece of pie for dessert."_

_"That's pretty impressive."_

_"She used to say there was a fat old lady inside her trying to eat her way out."_

_"What did you talk about?"_

_"Nothing much; work, family."_

***

"I'm an only child."

"Lucky you."

"You come from a big family?" he asked.

"Not really, but I have a younger brother; the bane of my existence."

Mac laughed. He hadn't felt this comfortable in the presence of a woman in a long time, if ever. He watched as she leant across the table; she'd taken off her suit jacket and sat in her white blouse, a red paper napkin tucked in the neck; she was eyeing his uneaten fries.

"Have them," he said, pushing the plate towards her and smiling as she piled them onto her own empty plate along with some more coleslaw.

"Thanks," she said, batting her eyelashes playfully at him.

"So what does your brother do?" he asked.

"He works at my dad's firm."

"Firm?"

"He's a senior partner at Morton and Lacey."  
"That big law firm?" Mac was surprised, Claire didn't come off as a rich corporate kid; God knows he'd met enough of them to know.

"Yeah." She laughed to herself. "Dan likes to wear sharp suits and power ties but really he answers the phones at the main reception."

"Dan's such a jackass," she continued after a minute or so, "but dad's okay."

"What about your mom?" he asked, curious now.

She looked suddenly serious.

"We don't talk," she said quietly and Mac bit his lip.

"Sorry," he murmured but she shook her head at him.

"Don't worry about it. How about your parents?"

"Mom worked at the public library for years, I think she misses it. It's just her and Betsy when I'm away."

"Who's Betsy?"

"The dog."

She giggled again and Mac was glad to see her smiling again.

"And your dad?" she asked.

Mac's turn to look serious.

"Dead, a long time ago now."

"I'm sorry."

He shrugged slightly.

"It was cancer," he told her, "he's better off."

"How old were you?"

"Fourteen."

"God, it must have been awful."

She was studying him with that same look of warm concern she'd had that

afternoon when she'd told him to go talk to Tucker. There was something irresistible in

her gentleness and Mac found himself staring into her soothing blue eyes.

"Yeah," he murmured eventually. "Yeah, it was pretty bad, but we got through

it."

She gave a small nod.

"Raising a kid all on her own and holding down a job, your mom must be quite a

woman."

Mac couldn't help but smile.

"Yeah she is. Can't say I made things very easy for her."

"Oh, so you were a troublemaker huh?" she asked, giving him a flirtatious

look, making him blush slightly.

"Yeah I guess you could say that," he muttered, looking away but turning back

when he heard her laughing again.

He grinned at her quietly but they were interrupted when the bus-boy stopped by

their table to tell Claire there was a call for her at the counter. She rolled her eyes and told him she'd be back in a minute.

He watched her as she leant against the counter the phone clamped between her shoulder and her ear, twirling the phone cord around one finger and doodling on a napkin. As he watched she turned and winked at him, making him blush again.

He turned his attention back to the table and scrutinized the polished surface until he felt her presence at his side once more.

"Sorry," she said, "I have to go, my client pushed the time forward."

"Oh," he said, standing as she picked up her purse, pulling on her jacket and muttering to herself as she grabbed her coat and her papers.

He tossed some money on the table to cover their cheque.

"Can I walk you somewhere?" he asked as she looked around, checking she hadn't neglected anything.

"Nah, don't worry about it."

She stopped and looked up at him, grinning slightly.

"Come here," she said softly.

He stepped towards her obediently and she placed her hands lightly on his waist.

"Thanks for lunch," she whispered, standing on tiptoe and brushing a light kiss to the corner of his mouth. At the same time he felt her push something into his pocket.

She pulled back and smiled at him once more.

"See you around Mac," she said as she turned and slowly walked away.

"The flowers really were beautiful," she called over her shoulder as she pushed the door open and walked out into the open air.

Mac found himself staring after her once more, grinning like an idiot. When she was completely gone from his sight he reached into the front pocket of his jeans where he had felt her fingers and drew out a folded napkin. Unfolding it he saw a phone number and a note beneath it.

"Give me a call, Claire xx."

Mac smiled to himself again. Oh yeah, he was hooked.


	6. Creme Brulee and Kisses

**Sunday again, update time. Thanks for all the reviews so far. Hope you enjoy this one, something of a herald for things to some ;D**

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**Chapter 6: Creme Brulee and Kisses**

"So, do I call her?"

Mac and Tucker were sat in the Taylor living room. The TV was showing a football game but Mac wasn't really paying much attention. His mind was filled with Claire Conrad: her smile, her laugh, the way she had kissed him.

"Are you crazy?" said Tucker. His jaw was considerably less swollen than it had been, although when Mac's mother had seen it she had shaken her head. "Boys," was all she'd said.

"Is that a yes or a no?" asked Mac dryly.

Tucker rolled his eyes.

"Mac, don't be an idiot. The girl is obviously into you, you should definitely call her."

Mac raised his eyebrows at his friend.

"What, you don't think she's bad news, that I should stay away from her?"

"She's not Angela. I told you before man, I know a good woman when I see one."

"Yeah, as soon as they see you they start running."

Tucker swatted at him.

"Very funny," he muttered. "Look, trust me on this one man, she's alright."

"You really think so?"

Tucker sighed.

"Mac, if I thought she was no good I'd tell you so. Call her!"

"What, now?"

"No, not now, it's nine thirty already!"

"When then?"

"Lord have mercy, what are the two of you blathering about?"

Both men looked to the doorway where Moira Taylor stood in her housecoat, Betsy tucked under her arm.

Tucker grinned and leaned lazily back on the couch.

"Hey Mrs T," he said. "Your boy here was just tryin' to figure out when to call his new girl."

Mac glared at him but Tucker only stuck out his tongue.

Moira rolled her eyes.

"Oh is that all?" she said, sinking down into a chair, pulling the dog into her lap. "That's easy. When did you last see her?"

Mac stared at his mother in bemusement.

"This afternoon," he said. "We had lunch."

"And she gave you her number?"  
Mac blushed.

"Yes," he muttered.

"Then you should call her tomorrow evening."

"Why tomorrow evening?"

Moira gave an exasperated sigh.

"Because," she said, "if you do it tonight you look desperate, and besides you should never call after nine on a week night, not the first time anyway. If you call tomorrow during the day she'll be at work yes?"

"Yes," said Mac, trying to keep up with his mother's logic.

"Then you want to call her after she's finished but before nine. I'd say around seven thirty would be the best time. You leave it any longer than that and she'll think you're not interested."

Mac blinked at her and Tucker threw back his head and laughed.

"Where'd you learn all that Mrs T?" he asked through tears of amusement.

"I watch a lot of daytime TV," she replied dryly. "And besides, I'm a woman, we know these things. Now, if you boys will excuse me I'll say goodnight."

And she rose, the dog tucked under her arm once more, snuffling damply.

"Night mom," Mac called after her.

"Night Mrs T," joined in Tucker.

When she was gone Tucker turned to Mac with a grin.

"You know your mom's a lot smarter than you are buddy," he said.

Mac growled and threw a sofa cushion at him.

"Just shut up and watch the game," he grumbled.

***

It was exactly seven thirty the following evening when Mac picked up the phone and dialled the number on the napkin which sat before him on the kitchen table. He had been pacing back and forward, staring at the clock for hours.

"You know you don't have to call her at exactly seven thirty," said his mother, watching him with amusement.

"I know," he'd replied but had continued pacing.

She had shaken her head and gone back to the living room.

In a way he knew he was trying to put it off; despite the fact that she had clearly declared an interest in him he was still terrified that she might change her mind and turn him down. But eventually the clock showed seven thirty and he dialled the number.

"Claire Conrad," said the voice at the other end, just after the third ring.

"Uh, hey Claire, it's Mac," he said nervously.

"Hi there," she said, a little more softly and Mac could practically hear her smiling down the line.

"Hi," he replied.

There followed an oddly comfortable silence. It had just occurred to Mac that he had no idea of what he was going to say.

"How are you?" asked Claire, breaking the moment of quiet.

"I'm good. Listen, I was wondering if you might want to go for a drink, some night, or maybe dinner even?"

"I'd love to."

"You would?"

"Yeah."

His face broke into a broad smile.

"Great! I uh... how about tomorrow night?"

"That sounds great."

Mac's grin got wider.

"Great," he said. Then a thought struck him. "Uh, where would you like to go? I don't exactly spend a lot of time here these days," he said apologetically.

She chuckled slightly on the other end.

"Tell you what," she said, "why don't you pick me up around seven and we can decide where we want to go then?"

"Alright."

She gave him the address and he jotted it down on the other side of the napkin she'd given him.

"Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow night," he said once he had checked that he had the address right.

"I guess you will," she replied softly.

There was another comfortable silence for a moment or two and then he heard Claire chuckling once more.

"What's funny?" he asked.

"Nothing, only I think one of us is supposed to say goodnight now."

He smiled sheepishly.

"I suppose," he murmured.

"I'll see you tomorrow Mac."

"See you tomorrow."

"Goodnight."

"Night."  
He held on until he heard her disconnect and then punched the air silently before making his way through to the living room. He sat down opposite his mother who was reading a magazine.

"Well?" she said after a couple of minutes, her eyes not leaving the page.

He smiled at her.

"I think it went okay," he said.

She looked up at him and smiled.

"Good," she said.

***

He arrived at Claire's apartment early the next night and stood in the hallway, gnawing on his lip and loosening his collar.

He had spent the day at the shop with Tucker, trying to ignore his friend's constant stream of suggestions for his date that night.

"Take flowers," Tucker told him.

"I was going to," he replied. "This isn't exactly the first time I've done this you know."

"True, but it's the first time you've done it with someone worthwhile."

Mac raised an eyebrow.

"Are you saying I have bad taste in women?"

"Yes," said Tucker bluntly.

Mac had only shaken his head.

"Yeah, well maybe my luck is about to change," he'd murmured.

And now here he was, standing outside Claire's apartment, praying that his luck really had changed.

He knocked and heard a call of, "it's open," from inside.

He turned the handle and pushed, shuffling tentatively over the threshold.

"Claire?" he called awkwardly. "It's me."

"Make yourself at home, I'll be right out," she called from the direction of what he assumed was the bedroom.

Gnawing his lip again and feeling more than a little intrusive he closed the door behind him, coming more fully into the apartment and looking around.

The front door opened directly into the living room which was cheerful and warm, if a little messy. There were a few photos on the wall above the mantelpiece which he looked at with interest; Claire and some friends, Claire and a slightly younger man he took to be her brother, Claire by herself, all dressed up and smiling.

"I scrub up pretty good huh?"

He turned around. She was stood in the doorway of the bedroom wearing a little red dress which skimmed her knees and was held up by thin straps at her shoulders. She was fixing a diamond stud into her left ear in a gesture faintly reminiscent of Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast a Tiffany's.

"I'll say," he murmured, unable to stop his eyes from running up and down her body.

She noticed and gave a little twirl.

"You like? I bought it for a Christmas party and then caught the flu and couldn't go."

"You look nice," he said, realising how pathetic it sounded even as he said it but she smiled at him, coming forward to stand immediately in front of him.

"You don't look too shabby yourself," she said.

Mac tried not to blush; he hadn't worn this suit in quite some time and he'd been more than a little worried that it wouldn't fit.

"Here," he mumbled, handing her the bouquet of long stemmed red roses he'd brought with him. "These are for you."

"They're beautiful," she told him, kissing his cheek.

She turned, making her way through to the little kitchenette to find a vase and returned a moment later, placing the flowers on the coffee table.

"So, any thoughts as to where we're going?" she asked as she moved the blooms around.

"Tucker told me about this little French place not too far from here," he replied. "Unless you object to French food?"

She shook her head.

"Sounds great," she said. "Let me get my coat."

***

They took a cab to the restaurant and Mac held the door open for Claire when they arrived, helping her out before taking her arm and ushering her inside.

It was a small place, just a dozen or so tables. There were red tablecloths and candles in wine bottles and soft French music played in the background. There were a few other couples already there but the place was far from full.

"Good evening," said a waiter in a long white apron. "Table for two?"

"Please," said Mac and they were shown to one of the small tables towards the rear of the restaurant.

The waiter handed them a couple of menus and left them in peace.

"This is nice," whispered Claire across the table. "Tell Tucker he has good taste."

Mac smiled, glad she liked the place. He had been worried it would be too fancy, or more to the point, too expensive, but scanning the menu quickly everything seemed pretty reasonable.

They ordered their food and a bottle of wine. When the waiter was gone again he leant back in his chair, staring at Claire while she ran a finger down the stem of her wine glass, flicking the bowl with her nail and smiling at the ringing sound it made.

"My gramps used to play these things," she said absently.

"Play?"

"Yeah, you know, you get a bunch of them and fill them to different levels with water, then you wet your finger and run it around the rim. The glass emits a note, different level of water gives you a different note so you can play tunes. It was like a party trick."

Mac chuckled softly.

"My grandfather's party trick was opening beer bottles with his teeth," he said and she laughed.

"Nice."

"It was pretty cool. My mom told me her brother tried it one night when he was drunk, busted his front two teeth."  
"No way!"

Mac grinned.

"Uncle Fred's the only guy I know who had false teeth at the age of twenty five."

She laughed again, covering her mouth to stop herself when the waiter returned with their wine.

They settled into silence once more and Mac found himself looking at the table top. He wasn't good at this kind of thing; for some reason first dates seemed to rob him of his ability to have an intelligent conversation. Here he was, sitting in a nice restaurant with a nice girl and the only thing he could think to talk about was his uncle's teeth. Okay so she'd found it amusing, but surely he could do better than that.

He remembered his first ever date; he was thirteen, her name was Amanda and he'd taken her to the cinema one Saturday afternoon. The plan had been to go on and grab a bite to eat afterwards; unfortunately despite his ability to talk to her quite happily during school hours, as soon as they were left alone he could no longer think of anything to say, with the result that she had called her dad to pick her up straight after the movie and it had been over a year before he had dared to ask a girl out on a date again.

"You okay?" asked Claire, breaking him out of his reverie.

"I'm fine."

She raised her eyebrows.

"Sorry," he murmured, spreading his hands wide before him. "I'm not too good at this."

She smiled at him.

"Who is?" she asked.

There was another moment of silence.

"Okay," she said, straightening a little in her chair, "what's your favourite colour?"

Mac frowned at her.

"My what?"

"Your favourite colour. Humour me."

"Alright, in that case, blue."

"Okay. What's your favourite food?"

"Pizza."

"Favourite movie?"

"The Man Who Shot Liberty Valence."

"Favourite book?"

"King Solomon's Mines."

She tapped a finger against her lower lip.

"What did you want to be when you were a kid?"

"A soldier, like my father."

"What was your best subject in school?"

"Physics."

"For real?"

She was grinning at him again and he nodded.

"I was the only guy on the wrestling team who wasn't flunking all three sciences."

She shook her head in disbelief.

"They let a science geek be on the wrestling team?"

He shrugged.

"I was stronger than most of them so, yeah. Okay, my turn," he said. "What was your best subject in school?"

"English."

"Favourite colour?"

"Yellow."

"Favourite music?"

"Bruce Springsteen."

"You're a Springsteen fan?"

She nodded enthusiastically.

"Absolutely. I almost cried when the E Street Band broke up."

Mac could only smile along with her.

Just then the waiter arrived with their starters. They chatted happily over their food, the curse of the first date silence broken.

The food was good, as was the wine. After their entrees had been cleared the waiter returned with the dessert menu.

"Ooh crème brulee," enthused Claire, her eyes lighting up as she read the menu.

"What the hell is that?" asked Mac and her eyes went wide.

"You've never had crème brulee before?"

"I've never even heard of it, what is it?"

She only laughed.

"Wait and see," she said.

When the waiter came back she ordered the brulee and a tarte au pomme for Mac.

"Just in case," she whispered conspiratorially.

Mac watched with amusement as their desserts arrived. Claire clapped her hands like a little girl as the plate was set before her, greedily eyeing the ramekin and its golden contents.

She picked up her spoon and with great delicacy tapped the top of the dessert, cracking the sugar shell before dipping in the spoon and scooping up the creamy dessert below. She raised the spoon to her lips, a smile of satisfaction touching her face as she tasted it.

"Mmm," she said.

Mac hadn't even touched his own dessert He simply sat watching her until she noticed and blushed.

"Sorry," she muttered.

"At least I don't have to ask what your favourite food is," he said.

She grinned back at him, loading her spoon once more before leaning across the table and holding it out to him.

"Try it," she said.

Obediently he leaned forward, opening his mouth, his eyes never leaving hers.

He took the proffered mouthful, only leaning back once more when he had swallowed.

"Not bad," he said.

"Told you so," she smirked.

She moved to retract her spoon but he reached forward, catching hold of her wrist gently.

"I may have to have a little more of that," he murmured, his fingers lightly brushing the smooth skin inside of her wrist.

"Be my guest."

Between them they cleared both plates. They sat quietly, finishing off their wine until it became clear that they were the only ones still there. Mac paid and they ventured out into the cool night air once more.

"I should be getting home," said Claire apologetically. "I have work in the morning."

"I'll find you a cab," he said but she caught hold of his arm.

"Or you could walk me home?" she said hopefully.

Mac grinned at her and took her arm as they sauntered easily down the street. After a while he felt Claire shiver slightly at his side and he released her arm, wrapping his own around her shoulders, pulling her closer. She smiled and burrowed into his side.

When they finally reached her building he went in with her, walking her to the door of her apartment.

"Tonight was great," she said softly, leaning into him a little as they stood outside her open door.

"Can I see you again tomorrow?"

"Yes."

Mac beamed.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked quietly.

"Well," she said, "normally I would never kiss a guy on a first date but," and here she slid her arms around his neck, "I think I can make an exception in this case."

Mac smiled again and leaned down towards her until their lips met, his hands settling at her waist. It was a teasing, promising kiss and Mac felt a warmth run through him as he pulled back to see Claire smiling up at him.

Pulling him back down for another, shorter kiss she whispered her "goodnight" against his cheek before slipping inside and gently closing the door.

Mac waited until he heard the click of the lock before he turned and made his way out of the building, grinning like a fool


	7. The Bitch is Back

**Hey folks, sorry for not posting yesterday, Document manager wasn't talking to me, but we seem to be back on speaking terms now. Thanks so much for all the reviews so far, you are all totally awesome. Hope you enjoy this chapter.**

**P.S I have a new fic about Mac and his goddaughter call Lucy-Loo and Dolly Too if you want to read something cute and fluffy.**

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**Chapter 7: The Bitch is Back**

_He sits in silence for a while, smiling vaguely out of the window. The other man watches him carefully._

_"That sounds nice," says the other eventually and receives what sounds almost like a happy sigh in return._

_"It was," he replies. "It really was."_

_"What about Angela?"_

_His gaze immediately sharpens._

_"What about her?"_

_"Well, did she show up again? It wouldn't be the first time an angry ex has tried to throw a spanner in the works of a new relationship."_

_"You speaking from experience?"_

_A small smile._

_"Angela?"_

_He sighs and looks at the floor, rubbing the back of his neck roughly._

_"Yeah, she showed up again, the very next night in fact."_

***

He had arranged to meet Tucker and his new girl at a club, and called Claire to let her know.

"Ooh, does that mean I get to grind all over you?" she asked happily, making Mac blush.

"I uh, don't really dance that much," he muttered.

"You won't have to," she told him.

He went to her apartment to pick her up. She answered the door wearing a tight little mini skirt and low-cut top. Mac had to swallow hard.

"Hi," he managed to gasp.

"Hi," she whispered in reply.

He continued to stare at her in silence. This was the most figure-hugging outfit he'd ever seen her in and he was beginning to realise that Claire had a gorgeous body to go with her pretty face. Her legs in particular entranced him; pale and smooth and very, very shapely.

"You're blushing," she told him, making him blush even more. "You're not… I mean, do I look okay? Do you want me to change?"

There was concern in her voice and more than a hint of embarrassment. He finally managed to tear his eyes away from her legs to look at her face again and saw that she was chewing her lip with worry.

"No!" he blurted, cursing himself for making her feel uncomfortable. "No," he repeated. "You look amazing."

"You're sure?"

She was still worried but there was a hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

He reached out and gently pulled her towards him, wrapping an arm around her slim waist.

"Absolutely," he told her and she beamed up at him, the worry finally gone.

Gently he brushed his lips against hers and felt her smile against his mouth.

"I could get used to this," she murmured as they broke apart.

"Me too," he replied.

She leant forward, inclining her head so that the tip of her nose rubbed lightly against his and he could feel her soft breath against his lips.

"One more for the road," she said.

They were fifteen minutes late meeting Tucker and his date.

***

The club, much to Mac's surprise, was not the new one Tucker had gone to last Friday night with Claire's friends.

"The line in front of that place is crazy," Tucker explained. "And the drinks are way too pricey."

The club they now entered was one Mac had been to before. The music was loud but there were plenty of quiet corners where you could sit and talk. The dance-floor, at the opposite end of the club from the bar and up a set of steps, wasn't too crowded and Mac even recognised the song that was playing as they entered.

They got some drinks and found a table around the side of the dance-floor, sheltered from the speakers.

Tucker sat back against the wall, his arm around his date, Lisa; a pretty brunette who worked as a make-up girl in a department store. Mac and Claire sat opposite them, legs and arms touching slightly, causing little tingles to run through Mac, making him feel lightheaded. They chattered happily for a while about cars and music and movies.

"What do you mean you haven't seen Return of the Jedi?" squealed Lisa, who was apparently also a sci-fi fanatic.

Mac shrugged.

"I'm not always around," he said.

"What?"

"Mac is a marine, babe," explained Tucker.

"You mean one of those soldier guys?"

Mac grinned.

"Yeah, one of those."

"Oh." Lisa seemed to think about this for some time. "So are you here on leave or something?"

"Yeah."

"But not for long," cut in Tucker. "He flies back out next Friday, right bro?"

"Next Friday?"

Mac turned to glance at Claire. She was giving him a questioning look and Mac suddenly felt sick in the pit of his stomach.

"Uh, yeah," he murmured.

Across the table he could see Lisa about to say something but Tucker shook his head slightly, squeezing her hand and she fell silent.

"Oh, okay," Claire said softly.

Mac reached out to put a hand on her arm but she moved away, standing up.

"I have to go to the ladies room, back in a second," she announced with a bright, brittle smile.

Mac watched her turn on her heel and head for the bathroom and hung his head.

"You didn't tell her?" Tucker practically yelled from the other side of the table.

"No," he moaned.

How could he have been so stupid?

"Well don't just sit there!" Tucker shouted. "Go get her!"

Claire was already half-way across the room but Mac managed to catch up with her, snagging hold of her arm with his fingers.

"Claire, wait," he said.

The fact that she actually stopped and turned around gave him hope.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I should have told you I was only here for another week, I just… it never…"

He was floundering and hung his head again. It would serve him right if she walked away, he thought. But she didn't.

"I'm not mad, Mac," she told him gently. "I'm not. It's my fault; I didn't ask you and…"

But he was shaking his head.

"No," he said forcefully, "that's not good enough. I should have made an effort to tell you. I'm sorry Claire."

She touched his cheek lightly with the palm of her hand.

"Go back to the others," she said quietly. "I'll be back in a minute and then we can talk, okay?"

"You're not going to leave are you?" he asked, his eyes wide, begging her not to go.

He was rewarded with a small laugh.

"No, I just really need to pee," she said. "Go back and I'll be there in a minute."  
Reluctantly he let her go, watching as she disappeared in the crowd of people. Heaving a sigh he turned and headed back towards Tucker and Lisa. He was just passing the steps to the dance floor when he heard someone calling his name.

Turning, he felt sick for the second time that night. Angela was slinking her way towards him in an outfit which left little to the imagination, but not nearly as tastefully as Claire's.

"Hey babe, where've you been hiding yourself?" she said, gliding up to him and running her hands up his chest.

Mac stepped away.

"Go away Angela," he said bluntly.

She frowned at him.

"Don't tell me you're still sore about me and Tucker?"

She stepped forward, invading his personal space once more. Had she always been this predatory, he wondered, or was he just seeing it now because he was no longer under her spell?

"Baby I'm sorry about that. Why don't we get out of here and I'll show how sorry I am?"  
Her hands were on him again, her arms around his neck, lips grazing his jaw.

"Cut it out Angela," he hissed, yanking her arms and pushing her away.

She stumbled slightly and glared at him.

"What the hell?" she yelled, making a few people turn around.

But Mac was no longer concerned with Angela; he had just seen Claire's blonde head weaving through the crowd towards him.

"Just get out of here Angela," he said but she tossed her head.

"Why should I?"

"Look, I'm seeing someone else okay!"

He should have known that was the wrong thing to say to a girl like Angela.

"Oh really?" she said, coming closer again. "Well, I wonder if she'll have anything to say about this."

Before he knew what was happening she had pounced, her arms locking around his neck, her tongue forcing its way into his mouth as she ground her body hard against his. Mac didn't know what the hell to do, and although he tried he could not break her grip on him.

When she finally released him she wore a look of triumph on her smug face. And as she stepped away Mac saw Claire standing before him, her face neutral.

"Claire!" he gasped.

Angela turned and smiled sweetly at her.

"Is there a problem?" she asked.

Claire looked her up and down slowly.

"You must be Angela," she said.

"Yes."

"Figures."

And with that she walked straight past both of them, back to the table where she sat down and began talking to Tucker and Lisa.

Angie smirked at Mac.

"Good luck soldier boy," she said as he started after Claire.

As he neared the table Lisa stood, heading for the bar. She winked at him as he passed.

Reaching the table he found Claire and Tucker discussing the body shop. He stared down at them. What was going on? Why was Claire being so calm about everything?

"Um, Claire?"

She looked up and smiled at him.

"Hey Mac; you made it back alive I see."

"Uh, yeah, just about."

"Sit down."

He resumed his seat, not sure what to say. But once he had sat down Claire and Tucker resumed their conversation. Mac sat and watched them in bemusement for several minutes until a quiet moment between songs was punctuated by an ear-splitting scream from the bar area.

"What the hell was that?" wondered Mac.

Claire was already on her feet.

"Let's go see," she said, grabbing his hand and pulling him along while Tucker merely sat and grinned after them.

A circle of people seemed to have formed around two women, and Mac saw to his discomfort that it was Angela and Lisa.

Lisa was holding an empty cocktail glass, the contents of which were splattered over Angela's clothes and face.

"You little witch!" Angela was screaming over the music which had resumed.

"I'm really very sorry," chuckled Lisa, who didn't look in the least bit sorry.

"Do you know how much this dress cost?"

"About a dollar ninety five?" piped up Claire and Mac looked at her in surprise; had she planned this?

Angela spun around and glared at her.

"You!" she hissed before composing herself, noticing the watching crowd. "You know it's pretty pathetic, getting someone else to spill a drink on me just because you can't control your boyfriend."

Claire just shrugged.

"I'd rather be pathetic than desperate," she said.

Angela's eyes flashed angrily and she took a step towards Claire but Mac moved in front of her. Angela glared at him in surprise.

"Why are you protecting her?" she asked. "You saw what she did."

"Really?" said Mac. "I don't remember seeing her do anything."

"What's goin' on over here?"

The bouncer had arrived and was glaring around the circle.

"I'm sorry sir," said Lisa, "I spilled a drink over that girl by accident, but now she's taking it out on my friend."

She gave the bouncer an innocent look and he nodded, frowning at Angela and motioning for her to follow him.

"Come on lady," he muttered. "Time you were headin' home."

In the meantime Claire had slid out from behind Mac and was standing beside him.

"Just a second," she said to the bouncer, coming forward so that she could talk into Angela's ear. "You screwed up Angie," she said in a low voice so that only Angela could hear. "You don't get a second chance. And if you try a cheap trick like that again you'll get more than a daiquiri in the face."

She stepped back and smiled once more before turning to head back to the table.

"What about my dress?" hollered Angela.

"Bill me," called Claire, without looking back.

The bouncer took Angie's arm, escorting her towards the door, and Lisa sidled up to Mac with a grin.

"I like your Claire," she told him.

"Yeah," murmured Mac, as they made their way back to the table once more, "me too."

***

Mac and Claire left the club soon after. Claire was still acting as if nothing had happened and Mac was more than a little worried.

Claire had no coat with her but it was cold outside and it wasn't long before she began to shiver.

"Here," said Mac, wrapping his own jacket around her shoulders.

"Thanks."

Mac bit his lip.

"Look, Claire, I…"

"Did you want to kiss her?" she asked.

"What? No!"

"Then that's all I need to know," she said. "She's a real piece of work."

"Tell me about it," he muttered.

"How did you even end up dating her?"

He looked at the ground, embarrassed.

"She said she liked me," he mumbled.

"That's all it took?"

Claire looked genuinely surprised and he shrugged.

"I haven't had too many women say that," he told her.

She smiled warmly at him, coming closer and placing a hand on the side of his face.

"I like you," she said softly. "I like you a lot."

"You're not mad I didn't tell you when I was leaving?" It was still bugging him, but she shook her head.

"You're a marine Mac," she said.

"I should have told you."

"And I should have asked, but we're going round in circles again."

"Sorry."

They looked at each other for a long time. He hardly knew her but he knew he'd never been more comfortable with a woman than he was with her; except his mother of course, but that was beside the point.

Tentatively he pulled her into his arms and she didn't resist.

"Claire," he murmured.

"Hm?"

"I like you too."

Her face seemed to glow as she beamed up at him. Her only reply was to raise herself on her toes and kiss him tenderly.

It occurred to him as he held her close that kissing Angela had never felt this good. Her kisses had been full of lust and the desperate need to feel something, anything. Claire's kisses were warm and full of happiness and that happiness hung around afterwards, enveloping them like a golden cloud as she nuzzled her nose against his neck, cuddling into him against the cold Chicago wind.

"Come on," he whispered into her hair. "I'll walk you home."

From the doorway Tucker watched them leave and smiled. Mac deserved more moments like that. When they were gone he went back into the club to find Lisa, pursuing an intimate moment of his own.


	8. Meet the Family

**Hi folks, Sunday again. Thanks for the reviews so far, I'm glad you all seem to like Claire and the rest of the cast so far. Your continuinig encouragement keeps me going. Hope you enjoy this chapter too.**

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**Chapter 8: Meet the Family**

Mac woke late the next day, pleasant dreams of Claire fogging his brain as he stared at the ceiling.

Downstairs he could hear Betsy barking in the back yard and his mother singing along to the radio. The only other noise was the occasional rush of a car as it passed. Mac missed this peace when he was away. No matter where he was posted there was always noise; trucks coming and going, the tinny sound of someone else's walkman with the volume turned up, the distant noise of combat, men talking in their sleep, or screaming, the constant rustle of tent flaps. It wasn't surprising that he didn't sleep too well at the best of times.

Normally the sudden lack of noise when he came home caused him even more sleepless nights but Claire Conrad seemed to have taken care of that. She soothed his wakeful mind and lulled him to sleep.

He finally hauled himself out of bed and into the shower, letting the warm water wake him up properly.

Coming downstairs a few minutes later he heard his mother on the phone.

"I think it's a lovely idea," she said as he slid past her into the kitchen to make himself some breakfast. "He's here now, I'll ask him."

Putting a hand over the receiver she turned to him.

"It's Uncle Fred," she said. "He wants to take us out to dinner tonight."  
"Sounds great."

"I thought it might be nice if you invited Claire too."

Mac blinked at her.

"Uh, I don't know."

"Oh come on Mac, I'm dying to meet her."

"Well, I guess I could ask her."

"Wonderful!"

She put the phone back to her ear.

"He'll ask her… Alright, yes, that sounds like a good idea… We'll see you tonight. Bye Fred."

Coming over to the table Moira sat down.

"Do you really think this is a good idea?" he asked her nervously.

"What's wrong honey, afraid we'll show you up?" she joked.

"No," he said but he still wasn't sure.

His mother had disliked Angela almost as much as Tucker did and as much as he doubted it would happen again he couldn't stand the thought of his mother taking against Claire.

She put a hand on his arm.

"If you think it's too soon you don't have to ask her," she told him gently but he shook his head.

"No, I'll ask her," he said.

"Alright. She must be quite a girl judging by the good mood you've been in these last few days."

Mac blushed a little.

"Yeah," he replied, "she is."

***

He called her apartment but there was no answer so he called her office instead.

"Harper and Green Estate Agents, how can I help you?" said a voice on the other end.

"Is that Cindy?" he asked, remembering the receptionist who had spoken to him earlier that week.

"Yes, who is this?"

"It's Mac Taylor, I'm looking for Claire Conrad, is she there?"

"Yeah she's here. You were the guy with the flowers right?"

"Yeah that was me."

"Cute. Hang on a second and I'll put you through."

"Thanks."

There was a moment's silence and then a click. The phone rang another couple of times before Claire answered.

"Claire Conrad."

"Hey Claire, it's me."

"Mac? Hey, what's up?"

"Nothing it's just uh, well my Uncle Fred called this morning."

"The one with the false teeth?"

He could hear her smile.

"That's him. He wants to take my mom and me out to dinner tonight and I was sort of wondering if you'd like to come with us?"

"Oh."

She sounded surprised.

"It'll just be my mom and Uncle Fred and his wife, and maybe my cousin Bella. If you don't want to go it doesn't matter, I can," but she cut him off.

"No Mac, I'd love to meet your family."

"You would?"

"Yes."

"That's great. In that case I'll pick you up at seven."

"Cool. Oops, the boss is coming my way, I'm not supposed to use this line for personal calls. I'll see you tonight."

"See you tonight."

She called a quick goodbye and then the line disconnected.

Mac wandered through to the living room where his mother was reading, Betsy curled up beside her on the sofa.

"She said she'd love to come," he said and she looked up with a smile.

"That's good," she said. "I'll call Fred later and let him know."

***

When Mac arrived to pick Claire up he found her perfectly turned out and ready to go; a fact which belied the mad panic which had preceded his arrival. But, anxious as Claire was, it was nothing compared to how tense Mac felt.

Introducing a new girlfriend to his family had never been an easy task for him. Not that they were in any way hostile to the few women he had introduced them to; it was just that occasionally they forgot where the line should be. They would never say anything out of spite, but if you weren't used to them it was possible for them to seem a little rude, especially Bella who was only fifteen and a little spoiled. Mac only hoped that Claire would understand.

"Look," he said on the way there, "my family can be a little… brash. They don't mean any harm, sometimes they just forget that not everyone has their sense of humour, or what's appropriate."

She laughed slightly.

"Trust me, no one can be as bad as my mother," she said, but as they neared the restaurant he felt her tense slightly.

Entering the restaurant Mac saw his uncle waving at him from the far corner.

"There they are," he said, nodding in their direction.

Claire nodded but didn't say anything.

"You okay?" he asked.

She looked up at him and gave him a shy smile.

"A little nervous I guess, but I'll be fine."

"You sure?"

She nodded, squaring her shoulders.

"Absolutely. Just don't go anywhere."

Mac squeezed her hand reassuringly and together they headed for the table.

Uncle Fred was Moira's older brother by two years; he was taller than his sister but quite stout, and bald. His wife Jill and their daughter Bella, who was still in high school, were both small and curly headed with dark, mischievous eyes. Moira was there too, her brother having picked her up. They all stood up as Mac and Claire approached them.

"The prodigal son returns once more huh?" said Fred, pulling Mac into a hug and slapping him lightly on the back.

Mac hugged him back before bestowing a kiss on Jill.

"It's good to see you," she told him.

"You too."

"How you been knucklehead?" asked Bella, hugging him tightly.

"Not bad half-pint," he chided. "How's my favourite baby cousin?"

"I'm your only cousin!"

"Too bad."

She rolled her eyes at him before nodding at Claire who stood back a little, smiling fondly at the family scene before her.

"You going to introduce us?" Bella asked her cousin.

Mac turned and held out his hand, Claire coming forward to take hold of it tightly.

"Everyone," Mac said, "this is Claire. Claire this is Fred, Jill and Bella."  
They all said hello and then Mac turned to face his mother.

"And this is my mom, Moira."

"It's lovely to meet you Claire," said Moira, shaking Claire's hand warmly.

"I'm glad to meet you too Mrs Taylor."

"Please, call me Moira."

"Okay."

"Well, shall we sit?" said Fred.

They took their seats, Mac keeping hold of Claire's hand beneath the level of the table.

The waiter took their order and Mac's family began filling him in on everything that happened since they had last seen him; not that he hadn't heard most of it from his mother already.

Occasionally he let his eyes drift over to Claire, worried that she might be bored or feel left out but she was smiling happily and chattering to Bella. Seeing her converse with his family gave him a feeling of contentment as he realised just how lucky he was.

As though she could hear his thoughts Claire turned her head just then and offered him another shy smile. There was still some tension in her body and Mac knew that she was trying hard to make a good impression and that that veneer of confidence she was doing such a good job at projecting was barely keeping a lid on her nervousness. The mere fact that she was making such an effort only made him all the more proud of her.

Returning her smile he rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb reassuringly which earned him a slightly bigger smile.

"So Claire," said Bella eventually, "has he kissed you yet?"

"Bella!" exclaimed her mother but Bella only rolled her eyes.

"What?" replied the fifteen year old. "It's a valid question. So, has he?"

Claire couldn't help chuckling slightly at the exchange.

"Well, yes."

"Is he any good?" she enquired further, causing Mac to redden slightly and glare at her.

"That's enough Bella," said Fred.

"I was just asking," she muttered in reply, slumping in her chair.

Claire took pity on her and leaning towards the young girl slightly she whispered, "Well, since you ask, he is rather good. But don't tell him I told you so, I wouldn't want him to get a swelled head."

Bella laughed and Mac looked at the two of them with raised eyebrows.

"What are you two whispering about?" he asked but Claire shook her head.

"Girl stuff," she said, causing Bella to giggle again.

Mac shook his head, but luckily both he and Claire were spared any further questions by the arrival of the waiter with their meals and for a while the conversation turned to food and then to more mundane things. It wasn't until the dessert had arrived that Bella once again decided to press her cousin's buttons.

"Tell us how you two met," she insisted.

"We got talking at a bar one night," said Mac.

"And?"

"And what?"

Bella rolled her eyes.

"You suck at telling stories," she told him before turning to Claire. "Will you tell me?" she asked sweetly.

"You know you're too old for that 'little girl' routine," Mac told her but she was ignoring him.

"Please Claire?"

"Leave the poor girl alone Bella," said Moira as once more the girl slumped in her chair.

"Oh I don't mind," said Claire quickly. "That is, if you really want to hear it?"

The others nodded and Moira gave her a warm smile.

She looked at Mac and he gave a small shrug.

"Go ahead," he said lightly, leaning back in his chair to listen. In truth he was interested in what Claire's side of the story might be.

"Alright, let me see. Last Friday night I was out with a couple of my friends from work."

"You're a realtor, is that right?" interrupted Jill.

"That's right. It wasn't a special occasion or anything, we just wanted to go out and have a little fun, maybe go on to a club or something. But first we decided we'd go to Archie's and have a few drinks, see if we could find a few others to party with.

Anyway, we got there and it was pretty quiet so we grabbed a table. A little while later the door opens and these two guys walk in. One of them was simply the most gorgeous man I have ever seen; tall, strong, movie star handsome. All three of us just let out this little sigh when we saw him; we're talking premium dreamy!"

"She's talking about Tucker," said Moira with a twinkle in her eye.

Everyone laughed, including Mac, as Claire nodded.

"Yeah okay, it was Tucker, but he wasn't alone. So these two guys wander over to the bar and start talking. Gorgeous spies the three of us sitting in the corner and comes over and that just leaves his buddy at the bar. Gorgeous introduces himself and asks if he can join us and my two friends start cosying up to him."

"I don't blame them," murmured Bella.

"But as he's sitting there talking to us I can't help but stare at his buddy who's still standing at the bar."

"Wait a minute," interrupted Bella again. "Tucker Gomez is sitting only a few feet away from you and you're staring at him?" She indicated her cousin who smirked at her.

Claire coloured slightly.

"Yeah," she murmured. "He was just so quiet sitting there by himself so I decided to use it as an excuse to go talk to him; see if I could get him to join us too. Tucker told me he wouldn't come but I wanted to try anyway. What Tucker didn't tell me was that he was sitting there waiting for his girlfriend.

So I go over there, flirting like there's no tomorrow and he ever so politely shoots me down. I was so mortified I had to joke my way out of it, pretend like I hadn't been flirting with him in the first place. I asked him to join us and of course he said no so I bought him a drink and went back to my friends.

When I got back to the table Tucker gives me this smug little look and says he told me so. I just remember feeling embarrassed and kind of sad and I spent the rest of the night trying not to look over in his direction because I didn't want to catch his eye if he was standing there with his girlfriend.

Later on Tucker invited us all to go to a club but I didn't feel much like going out anymore. When I looked around Mac wasn't at the bar and I just assumed he'd left with his girl. I was just sitting there feeling sorry for myself when I look up and he's standing right beside me and he's smiling and…"

She broke off, her eyes fixed on Mac who was staring at her in disbelief. Had she really felt that badly when he had turned her down? Surely not? Girls like Claire didn't get despondent just because guys like him knocked them back. But then he wasn't sure he'd ever met a girl like Claire before.

When they entered the restaurant she had needed a façade to hold herself in check but as the evening progressed it had slowly melted away as she felt more at ease. Now, as she stared into his eyes, it was gone and he could feel the warmth radiating from her as she smiled at him.

Suddenly aware that she had fallen silent she flushed, turning back to the others.

"And that's how we met," she finished quickly, "It's not terribly exciting I'm afraid."

"Oh I don't know about that," murmured Moira as she Jill and Fred exchanged knowing glances.

Claire flushed even deeper and looked at the tablecloth, clearly embarrassed by her loss of composure. Mac reached out and took her hand once more, leaning over to press a kiss to her temple and she looked up at the contact, smiling into his eyes once more.

***

The meal over the party adjourned to the Taylor residence for a nightcap. Mac saw Claire slip out into the yard and followed her.

"Everything okay?" he asked softly as she turned to look at him.

"Yeah, I'm just a little warm is all."  
"It's the dog," he explained. "She doesn't like the cold so mom keeps the heat turned up this late in the year."

"Sounds like Betsy's pretty well looked after."

"If you ask me, a dog's life is something I could be happy with."

"You'd get bored," she told him, turning to look back out into the dark garden.

Mac moved close behind her and she leant back against him slightly.

"I like your family."

"You're welcome to them."

"I mean it. They're nice, and they care about you."

Mac wanted to ask about her own family but remembered her tone when she'd said she and her mother didn't talk so he left it.

"Did you mean it earlier?" he asked instead. "When you were talking about the night we met and you said you felt sad after I told you I had a girlfriend."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I guess I felt dumb for having put myself out there when you weren't interested."

He wound his arms around her waist from behind and felt her cuddle back into him. He pressed a kiss to the back of her neck.

"And then later, when you came over I felt so happy; and then I felt bad for feeling happy because you'd been stood up."

She turned to face him, looking up into his amused face. "You're quite a hottie you know," she informed him impishly. "And I thought you seemed like a nice guy and I really wanted you to be interested in me and I didn't think you were."

Mac gave a dry chuckle.

"Would you believe me if I told you I thought pretty much the same about you?" he asked.

"I'll believe you if you kiss me," she said sweetly, winding her arms around his neck and he grinned at her.

"Now there's a bargain," he murmured leaning down to kiss her firmly on the mouth, her fingers lightly teasing the hair at the back of his neck.

When they finally broke apart there was a sudden burst of applause and they both turned to see Mac's family standing at the back door, clapping wildly.

Mac went red again but Claire just laughed.

"I think we should take a bow," she said.


	9. Alone at Last

**Hey folks, Sunday again, so here's this week's installment. Hope you enjoy it, and thanks for all the reviews and support so far ;D**

* * *

**Chapter 9: Alone at Last**

Claire came to dinner at the house the next night. Moira had taken a real liking to her son's new girlfriend and, judging by the way she snuggled up in Claire's lap, so had Betsy.

Moira had just handed Claire a mug of coffee, smiling as the young woman scratched the dog behind her ears; the two of them curled up at one corner of the sofa.

"I'll go wash up," volunteered Mac, turning back towards the kitchen.

"I'll help," said Claire moving to get up but he shook his head at her.

"Betsy wouldn't hear of it," he said with a crooked grin. "Besides, it won't take long."

"It's best not to interfere when he's tidying," laughed Moira, taking her usual seat in the armchair. "He can get terribly serious about it."

"I can hear you," Mac called from the other room.

"Then stop eavesdropping," his mother replied.

"Is that a military thing; the tidiness?" wondered Claire.

"Not really. You should have seen his room when he was a teenager, neat as a pin and then some. For a while I thought he was trying to hide something; drugs or dirty magazines or something."

"And was he?"

"Of course. No fifteen year old boy keeps his room tidy unless he's trying to keep his mother out."

"So what was it?"

Claire was leaning forward slightly in her seat, a look of deep interest set on her pretty features. Moira leant forward conspiratorially.

"The worst possible thing a mother could find," she said.

Claire gasped.

"Not drugs?"

"No, not that."

"A gun?"

"Worse."

Claire's blue eyes went wide in a mixture of shock and curiosity and Moira had to fight the laugh building inside of her.

"What?" Claire asked, just above a whisper.

"A guitar."  
Claire blinked at her.

"What?"

Moira smiled.

"A guitar," she repeated. "Battered old thing he got at the pawn shop for five dollars."

Claire laughed in relief.

"I thought you said it was something terrible."

"It was. I thought he was going to give up on everything and become some long haired lay-about with delusions of rock and roll grandeur."

Claire laughed again.

"I guess that would be pretty bad," she conceded.

"Luckily it's just a hobby."

"He still plays?"

"Oh yes. Managed to scrape up enough for a better instrument but the old one is still in the attic somewhere."  
"Is he any good?"

"I'm biased."

"I suppose you would be."  
Moira looked fondly at a picture of her son in his dress uniform, which sat on the sideboard.

"I'm afraid I'm a little biased about most things when it comes to Mac," she murmured.

Claire's eyes drifted over the picture too and she smiled.

"I don't blame you," she replied, just as softly.

Moira looked at the young woman opposite her, so comfortable here in her home, a look of tenderness on her face as she stared at the picture of Mac.

"You really are very fond of him aren't you?" she said quietly and Claire blushed a little.

"Yes," she whispered.

"Good. Mac deserves someone who appreciates him."

There was a moment of companionable silence before Claire shifted in her chair.

"What was his father like?" she asked.

"My Mac? Oh he was very much like my son."

"He's named after his father?"

"In a way. My husband's name was McCanna; McCanna Boyd Taylor, but everyone called him Mac."

"So Mac should really be Mac Jnr.?"

Moira laughed.

"Just you try calling him that and see what it gets you."

Claire smiled softly.

"What was he like?"  
"Oh he was like a lot of other young men of his generation. He'd been drafted in the forties and sort of hung around in the military after that. He was so young when he joined he didn't really know what else to do so he just stayed a soldier. He was in Korea as well, but that was all long before I met him."

"How did you meet?"

"Military benefit; I swear I never danced so much in one night before. My shoes were worn right through on the sole and it had started to rain. I said my feet were going to get wet and he said, "well that won't do," and he just picked me up in his arms and carried me all the way home."

"He sounds wonderful."

"He was. He was also stubborn as a mule, a trait my son seems to have inherited, along with a few other things."

She looked down at her hands, spreading them in her lap.

"He didn't deserve to go out the way he did."

Claire nipped at her bottom lip.

"I still miss him," murmured Moira, flexing her hands and curling them tightly into fists for a second before releasing them along with a deep sigh.

She looked back up at Claire with an apologetic smile.

"Sorry. We don't talk about him very much. It was hard for Mac when his father died; I think part of him is still angry with him for leaving us."

Claire bit her lip harder, keeping the dampness behind her eyes at bay.

All this time the steady slop of water and clank of plates and pans had been heard from the kitchen but now it stopped and they heard footsteps, closely followed by Mac's appearance in the doorway.

Moira's face instantly broke into a smile, a genuine one, at the sight of her son.

"All done?" she asked and he nodded, sinking onto the sofa beside Claire who automatically scooted closer, allowing him to put an arm around her. But the change of position disturbed the dog who woofed grumpily at Mac before rolling off the sofa and limping over to Moira who pulled her up onto her own lap.

"Your mom was telling me about your guitar," Claire said. "You didn't tell me you were a musician."

"Bass guitar," he corrected lightly, "and I'm not really much of a musician. I don't get much opportunity to practice."

"You wanted to be a marine honey," his mother reminded him and he pulled a face.

"Well I was never gonna be a baseball player," he replied dryly.

"I don't know, you used to be good."

"I was eight!"

"So? You know I'm sure I have some pictures of you in that little White Sox uniform you used to have."

Mac closed his eyes and groaned while Claire clapped her hands gleefully.

"You have to show me!"

***

It was raining by the time she left. Mac walked her to the cab, the two of them huddling under an umbrella.

"Will I see you tomorrow?" he asked, opening the door for her.

"Sorry, I promised the girls; they're desperate to hear all about you."

"Oh," he was a little disappointed.

She placed a warm hand against his cheek.

"Why don't you come over on Tuesday night? I'll cook and we can watch a movie or something. Say seven?"

"Okay."

"Okay."

She leaned in, kissing him tenderly.

"See you soon."

He stood out in the rain, waving at the retreating cab.

***

Tuesday night came and Mac arrived at Claire's early, a bottle of wine under his arm. He knocked but it wasn't Claire who opened the door.

Instead it was a guy, a few years younger than Mac and dressed in suit pants and a pale blue shirt, open at the neck. Blond hair flopped lazily over one blue eye as he blinked at Mac.

"Uh hello," said Mac.

The guy leant easily against the doorframe.

"Hello there," he replied looking Mac up and down.

"Um, I'm here to see Claire," he tried.

"Really? Lucky old Claire. Come on in, she's getting dressed."

He stood slightly to one side, allowing Mac to pass him before closing the door behind them. Mac was a little concerned now. More than anything he was certain he had seen this guy somewhere before but he didn't know where.

"You must be the marine right?" said the guy, sidling up to him and taking the wine from his unresisting hand, peering at the label.

"Yeah, Mac."

"Hmm, not bad."

"It's just chardonnay."

"Wasn't talking about the wine."  
Mac's eyes bugged.

"What?"

"Mac is that you?" called Claire's voice from the bedroom.

"Yeah," he managed to stutter.

She appeared in the living room and crossed to him, kissing him lightly.

"Hey, sorry I had to take a shower."

"Um, that's okay."

"He brought wine," said the blond haired guy smoothly, handing the bottle to Claire.

"Ooh chardonnay, you are a clever boy."

She kissed him again before turning towards the kitchen.

"This is my brother Dan."

"Nice to meet you," smiled Dan.

"You too."

That was where Mac had seen him before. He was the guy in the pictures over Claire's mantelpiece. Claire re-appeared, a glass of wine in each hand, one of which she handed to Mac.

"I made chicken," she told him.

"Hey, don't I get any wine?" whined Dan, pouting at his sister.

"You, baby brother, have somewhere else to be."

"I do?"

Clare glared at him and he rolled his eyes.

"Oh alright, I suppose I shall forgo the pleasure of your company this evening."

"Thank you."

He retrieved his suit jacket from where it lay in a crumpled heap on the back of the sofa, slinging it over his shoulder.

"See you later sis," he said, kissing her cheek and then winking at Mac. "Catch you later soldier."

Mac waited until the door closed behind Dan before turning to Claire with raised eyebrows.

"That's your brother?" he queried.

"Yup."

"Is he…" he trailed off, not quite sure how to finish his question without offending her.

"Gay?" she said, leaning against the wall and looking at him over the rim of her glass.

"Yeah."

"Yes. Is that a problem?"

Mac shrugged. He was Catholic and a marine, neither which group had a history of being predisposed towards the homosexual community. On the other hand Mac had never been one to judge an individual by the prejudices of others.

"Well it'll be the first time I've ever had to worry about a girl's brother flirting with me," he said lightly.

Claire laughed.

"I don't blame him," she said, setting down her glass and crossing to him, her arms wrapping around his neck as she kissed him.

Breaking away Mac grinned at her, putting down his own glass in order to hold her properly.

"I'm kind of glad you sent him away though," he murmured.

"And why is that?" she asked teasingly.

"I hate having an audience."  
She chuckled, leaning into his kiss happily but drawing back after a few minutes.

"Come on, let's have dinner," she said, making to pull away from him, but he kept a tight hold on her.

"I thought this was dinner," he teased.

"Do I look like a lemon and herb grilled chicken to you?"

"No," he admitted, finally loosening his grasp on her.

"Alright then. Come and have some dinner and then," she trailed a finger up the length of his chest, leaning in so that her lips grazed his, "I might let you have some dessert."

Mac felt his body shudder happily at her suggestion as she stepped away, turning her back and walking into the kitchen.

"You coming?" she called softly.

"Yeah," he managed to call shakily.

Picking up his wine glass he took a deep swig before following her. Suddenly he was extremely hungry.

***

Dinner over they adjourned to the couch. Claire switched on the TV and, picking up the remote, she snuggled up to him.

"So, we have a crappy horror movie or a costume drama," she said, offering him the choice.

"Do you scare easily?" he asked with a smirk.

"Yes,"

"Better be the horror movie then."

Grinning she pressed the button before wrapping her arms around his waist and leaning her head on his chest. But it wasn't long before the film was forgotten.

Mac was stretched out on the couch, Claire on top of him, his hands all over her back, her arms around his neck and their lips hungrily pressed together.

"Claire," he moaned, his lips leaving hers and trailing across her neck.

"Mm," was all he got in return.

And then suddenly she sat up, her legs straddling his waist, hands laid gently on his chest.

"Claire?" he asked with concern. Maybe he had been moving a little fast, but she had seemed okay with it. "Did I," he began but she reached out and put a finger to his lips, silencing him.

Taking her finger away she gave him a sexy little smirk and slowly brought her hands to the hem of her top, pulling it upwards until she peeled it of over her head leaving her in just a skimpy white bra.

"See something you like?" she asked, wiggling her hips as she did so.

"Definitely," he replied, pulling her back down on top of him, his rough fingertips tracing over the smooth pale skin now on offer.

But once again she pulled away, leaving him to pout up at her.

"You know you're adorable when you pout" she told him, running her fingers through his mussed hair.

"I don't pout," he replied, pouting even more as he said it.

"Yeah right," she said, leaning over to nip lightly at his bottom lip.

As she did so her fingers began to work at the buttons of his shirt, slowly unfastening them, pulling the ends out from his pants. But she stopped once more and looked down at him with raised eyebrows.

"Do you always wear an undershirt?" she asked in disbelief.

Mac coloured slightly.

"My mother taught me to dress properly," he said.

"I'll bet you know how to tie a tie too."

Allowing him to sit up she pulled his top shirt away before shoving him back down and starting to slide her hands upwards beneath his undershirt.

This time it was Mac who stopped her, taking hold of her wrists gently, worry etched on his face.

"What is it?" she asked, leaning back slightly. "Do you want me to stop?"

"God no!" he exclaimed. "No I… it's just that," he sighed in irritation at himself. "I have this scar," he said finally, "and it kind of… I don't want you to freak out."

What else was he supposed to say, "My ex-girlfriend thought it was gross and made me keep my shirt on during sex,"?

Claire put her head on one side, looking at him intently.

"Would you rather I left your shirt on?" she asked.

"No I just… I just thought I should tell you," he finished lamely.

"Is it bad?" she asked gently.

"It's not good," he replied, now inwardly cursing himself that he had spoiled things.

"Did you get it in the marines or is it older?"

"Three years ago in Beirut."

She nodded silently, her hands still beneath his shirt, resting on the warm skin of his stomach.

"Okay then," she said eventually and leant forward, kissing him.

He released her hands and a moment or two later he felt them continuing to slide up his chest, pulling his shirt with them.

He moved his arms to allow her to remove the shirt and closed his eyes waiting for her to react. Remembering Angela's initial reaction he almost expected her to hand the shirt back to him in disgust but instead he felt her soft lips begin to place tender little kisses over the knotted, angry flesh just below his collarbone. Even after three years the skin there was still sensitive and her actions caused little shivers to run through him and a soft moan to escape his lips.

Her kisses trailed away from his injury and up over his throat, across his jaw and back to his lips as he ran his hands over her bare back.

"Oh God that feels good," she moaned as he stroked the hollow near the base of her spine with his calloused fingers. "Mac."

"What?"

"I think we should take this to the bedroom," she mumbled against his lips.

He sat up, holding her in his lap before kissing her soundly.

"Good idea," he whispered before lifting her into his arms and carrying her across the room and through into the bedroom, gently kicking the door shut behind them.


	10. Confessions

**Hey folks, busy day tomorrow so I'm posting this one a little early. **

**Now for those of you who have memorized every episode of the show you might notice a little difference between the way Claire describes her ending up preganant with Reed and giving him away and the way Mac describes it to Reed in season three. There are two possible explanations for this. **

**1. I had not seen that episode before I wrote this but had formed a different story in my head and, after seeing the episode, decided that I liked my version better because it wasn't such as much of a cliche. **

**2. Mac lied to Reed in order to protect him from certain facts (like his grandmother being a total bitch, for example, at least she is in this story). Maybe "lied" is a little too strong, "oversimplified things" is probably a better way to put it. After all, he'd only just met the kid, he didn't want to freak him out too much.**

**Feel free to make your mind up, I'm just flagging it because I really don't want a bunch of reviews just pointing out my little continuity error when I alreadyknow it exists (it's not like CBS have never mucked up the continuity before). Anyway, author rant over. Please enjoy this chapter, it's one of my favourites.**

**Jill xx**

* * *

**Chapter 10: Confessions**

_His face has coloured slightly at the memory and the other man gives him a moment._

_"What happened in Beirut?" he asks after a while._

_"Hm?"_

_"Your scar, how did you get it?"_

_Unthinkingly his hand brushes the spot on his chest._

_"Attack on a military base, took some shrapnel."_

_"You hurt bad?"_

_"A lot of others were worse."_

_"I see. Do you sleep much?"_

_He frowns._

_"No. Why?"_

_"Just wondering. It ever bother Claire, your not sleeping?"_

_"A little I guess, to start with."_

_***_

He felt her moving on his chest, trying to nuzzle herself back to sleep but failing. With a little sigh she lifted her head, blinking at him.

"What time is it?" she wondered groggily.

"It's just gone four o'clock. Go back to sleep," he whispered, kissing her forehead gently.

"Four o'clock? What the hell are you doing awake?" she asked, pulling herself up into a sitting position, keeping the sheet close around them both, making Mac smile at her modesty.

"I don't sleep much," he told her gently. "Don't worry about it."

But she was frowning at him in concern.

"I'm a Marine, Claire," he added. "I'm supposed to be in a state of constant vigilance."

"Even when you should be asleep?"

He smiled slightly.

"Even then."

She rolled her eyes.

"That's dumb," she muttered.

"Mm, come here."

He pulled her close, kissing her warmly before letting her settle against his chest once more, her nose caressing the side of his throat.

"How long will you be away?" she asked in a small voice.

"A few months, about five probably."

Her arms tightened around him for a moment and Mac stroked her hair.

"Can I write to you?"

He craned his neck to look down at her.

"You want to write to me?"

"Of course I do," she said indignantly and then grinned up at him. "After all I wouldn't want you forgetting about me and taking up with some Eastern beauty."

He laughed and hugged her closer.

"Fat chance. It would be nice if you wrote though."

Normally the only people who wrote on a regular basis were his mother and Tucker. The thought of receiving even occasional letters from Claire made him feel deliriously happy.

"Good, because I'm going to write to you once a week whether you like it or not."

"I look forward to it," he said, kissing her forehead once more. "Now go back to sleep, you have work in the morning."  
She gave a small groan but complied, closing her eyes and snuggling down as he continued to stroke his fingers through her soft hair.

***

He spent the next night with her too, wanting to keep her in his arms for as long as possible, memorising the feel of her skin, the shape of her body, the sweetness of her kisses. He watched her sleep, feeling the gentle rise and fall of her chest and the steady beat of her heart against his own.

As he lay there it occurred to him that they only had one more day before he had to leave and the thought weighed heavy upon him. He'd never felt this bad about leaving before, not since the first time he'd gone away to training camp, his mother fighting the tears as she waved him off. He'd felt sick then, and uncertain, but now he felt strangely hollow, as though a part of himself were preparing to remain behind with Claire.

Claire called in sick that day and they went to the park, walking hand in hand in the October sunshine. Later they went back to his mother's house so that he could pack. Claire sat on the edge of his bed, alternately watching him and looking around the room.

"Is that your guitar?" she asked, pointing to the instrument that sat in the corner.

"Yeah that's Lucille."

"You named your guitar Lucille?" she asked with a giggle.

He gave a small shrug.

"It was good enough for B.B. King."

She laughed and threw a pair of rolled up socks at him.

"Am I interrupting anything?" said Moira from the doorway.

Mac shook his head.

"I was just introducing my girls," he said, indicating the guitar.

Moira chuckled softly at him.

"Come on downstairs, lunch is ready," she said.

Tucker swung by late that afternoon and they sat in the living room, talking and laughing. Moira made dinner for all four of them and Claire helped so Mac and Tucker washed up before Tucker went home.

"Hey, keep in touch man, you hear me?" said Tucker, pulling Mac into a hug.

"I will. Listen, keep an eye on these two for me," he said, indicating the two women behind him. "I don't want them causing trouble while I'm gone."

"No worries bro."

They hugged tightly once more before Tucker finally took his leave, waving from the gate as he turned down the street towards home.

Mac came back into the hallway to find Claire reaching for her coat.

"I guess it's time I was heading home too," she said quietly.

"I'll walk you," he said eagerly but she shook her head, glancing back at Moira.

"No it's okay, you stay here."

"I appreciate the thought," said Moira, gently laying a hand on Claire's shoulder. "But you two go on. I'm not so selfish as to keep him to myself on his last night."

Kissing his mother and promising to be back in the morning to pick up his bags and say a final farewell Mac grabbed his own jacket and took Claire's hand, leading her out of the door as Moira stood, smiling fondly after them.

***

They practically fell in the door of Claire's apartment, his fingers already seeking the fastenings of her coat, her hands on his belt buckle, pulling him closer to her hungry lips.

Their moans were loud and uncontrolled as they rolled together on the bed, the need to touch finally boiling over; oblivious to everything but each other and the swift and steady march of the hours towards the morning.

His breath ragged in his chest, his voice a dull rasp against her damp skin, he whispered "I love you Claire," over and over again as she shivered in his arms, her tears mingling with sweat until eventually exhaustion came and the darkness claimed them.

It was still dark when Mac awoke, but when he stretched slightly there was no comforting weight on his chest and when his eyes adjusted to the meagre light he saw that Claire was gone.

Worried, he rose, pulling on his pants and making his way to the living room. There, her knees up under her chin, clad only in his discarded undershirt, she sat, staring out of the window in the darkness.

"Claire?"

He stopped in the doorway, afraid that if he spoke too loudly she would disappear, so ghostly did she appear the in the pale white light of the streetlamps outside her window.

She looked up at him and he saw the tear tracks that glistened on her face.

"Claire what's wrong?" he asked, finally approaching her, slowly.

"I didn't mean to wake you," she said in a small voice. "I just wanted to think."

"You didn't wake me," he told her gently, nearing her side. "What's going on?"

She took a deep breath and looked at him with eyes still brimming with tears.

"There's something I want to tell you, but I'm not sure if I can."

He knelt beside her.

"Claire honey, you can tell me anything."

Her head dropped to her knees.

"I want to tell you but I'm afraid you might hate me, and I couldn't stand for you to hate me. I was going to tell you before, but I thought it might spoil things and now you're going away and you said you loved me and I love you too, and I just couldn't live with the thought of you being so far away and not knowing, or finding out from someone else…" she was rambling but managed to stop herself, drawing in another breath which was really more of a sob.

"Claire please," he begged, reaching out to touch her shoulder, "tell me what's wrong."

She raised her head once again, looking him in the eye.

"I have a son," she said.

It took several seconds for Mac's brain to process the information she was giving him.

"What do you mean?" he asked dumbly.

"A little over a year ago I had a baby, a little boy." She bit her lip. "I had a baby and I gave him away."

She swallowed hard and Mac could only continue to stare at her, his concern for her battling the vague sense of horror that seemed to have arisen at her confession.

"What happened?" he managed to ask after a little while.

"I met up with an old boyfriend from high school one night and we both got a little drunk and I got a little careless and then a couple of weeks later I found out I was pregnant."

Mac nodded, urging her to continue.

"I'd just moved into this apartment," she continued softly. "I didn't even have a job. My best friend had left town to go to university and there was no way the father was having anything to do with it. I freaked out, went to my mother for help. She suggested I had an abortion but I just couldn't go through with it. Then I decided I would just keep it; God did she ever hate that idea. As far as she was concerned I would never get a good job or a good husband if I kept it. She kept at me for months until she wore me down. There was no one else I could go to, no one I could talk to so, in the end, I gave in. I let her put my little baby up for adoption. She didn't even let me hold him."

She choked back another sob and Mac could feel his heart breaking for her. No wonder she didn't talk to her mother. All that confidence she showed was just an attempt to fill in the cracks left by an experience she was still really too young to have to undergo.

Mac let his arms slide carefully around her as she continued to weep, cradling her.

"It's okay," he whispered. "It's okay."

Still sobbing she climbed out of the chair and into his lap, her arms going around his neck.

"I love you," she told him. "I couldn't not tell you."

"I know," he murmured, rubbing her back. "But you have told me, and everything's going to be alright."

She buried her face in his neck.

"I love you," she repeated.

"I love you too," he said, hugging her tightly.

They sat like that for a little while longer until Claire's sobs lessened and she pulled away slightly, looking up at him.

"Can we go back to bed?" she asked and he nodded.

"Sure."

He stood, still cradling her in his arms and carried her back through to the bedroom, laying her down gently before climbing in beside her.

"I've got mascara on your shirt," she whispered apologetically.

"Don't worry about it," he told her. "In fact, you can keep it, it looks cute on you."

That drew a small smile and Mac felt a little surge of victory for having achieved it.

"Can I come with you to the airport tomorrow?" she asked, fighting a yawn.

"I'd like that."

"Thank you."

He wrapped his strong arms around her protectively.

"Go to sleep," he told her gently and she nodded.

He lay, stroking her hair and listening to her breathing in the darkness.

"I love you," he whispered one more time before he fell asleep too.


	11. Letter From America

**Hey, sorry I didn't post yesterday, Sunday's are becoming exceedingly busy. May have to shift my updates to Mondays on a permanent basis. Anyway, this chapter's a bit shorter, but I couldn't keep them apart for too long could I? Anyhoo, I hope you're all still enjoying this. Have a great week!**

**Jill xx**

* * *

**Chapter 11: Letter From America**

It was late the next morning when she finally awoke.

"Hey," Mac said softly. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Listen Mac I'm sorry, I didn't mean to unload on you last night."

"Don't worry about it."

"I was just upset I guess. I'm gonna miss you."

He held her close, kissing the top of her head.

"I'm gonna miss you too," he said.

She snuggled a little closer and sighed.

"This is nice," she murmured, "but we should get up."

"I guess so."

They showered and dressed, grabbing breakfast at a corner shop on the way back to Mac's. His mother had all his things ready in the hallway when they arrived.

"Have you eaten?" she asked and he laughed.

"Yes."

"Sorry sweetheart, I don't mean to fuss, but it's a long flight and I know how you hate airline food."

"Thanks mom," he said, leaning down to hug her, planting a kiss on her cheek.

The cab arrived and Mac loaded his belongings into the trunk before coming back to hug his mother tightly one last time. Betsy barked at the cab driver, running in over-excited circles at Mac's feet.

"Calm down you daft mutt," admonished Mac.

"She's going to miss you," his mother told him.

Leaning down he scratched Betsy behind her ears.

"I'll miss you too Betsy." He grinned at his mother. "You too," he added.

"Bye honey, remember to write."

"I will do mom. I love you."

"I love you too sweetheart."

She smiled fondly as she watched Mac and Claire get into the back seat. She stood on the sidewalk and waved to them before turning back into the house, Betsy following at her heels.

***

At the airport Claire waited with him while he checked in. They walked hand in hand towards the gate.

"Check your ticket," said a guard and Mac handed over his boarding pass.

"I guess this is it," said Claire quietly as the guard handed the ticket back to Mac.

"I guess so."

Claire bit her lip and Mac drew her close, giving her a squeeze.

"I'm gonna miss you," he whispered, nuzzling her hair.

"I'm gonna miss you too."

Drawing back a little he kissed her softly before giving her another squeeze.

"Let me know when you're coming home," she said, before letting go.

"I will."

"Okay. Bye."

She leant in and planted another quick kiss on his lips.

"Bye."

As he went through the gate he kept checking over his shoulder, looking at her standing there, biting her lip and waving. And then he turned a corner and she was gone.

***

"Mail call!"

Mac tried to stay at the back of the crowd, hands in his pockets, breathing deeply to calm his nerves.

She wouldn't write this soon would she? She had said once a week, but she had probably been joking.

"Taylor!"

He stepped forward and made his way to the front of the group.

"Quite the bundle today lieutenant," remarked the kid with the mailbag, handing him three envelopes bound together with a rubber band.

"Thanks Mike," he murmured, heading back to his tent as he sorted through the letters in his hand.

One was from his mother; he'd know her neat writing anywhere. The second was from a former buddy from training camp. He scanned both of these quickly before turning to the third.

"Dear Mac," it read, "I know you'll think it's stupid to write so soon but I just couldn't stand the thought of waiting any longer. Your mom gave me the address so hopefully it won't get lost or stuck somewhere, although she told me that the military mail service isn't the greatest so let me know when you get this.

Nothing much has happened around here. Work is busy, the rush to buy and sell before the Christmas period starts. Luckily Cindy is planning a big Halloween party at the end of the month to cheer us all up a little. You met Cindy didn't you? She works the phones, red hair. Anyway, she has a real thing for Halloween, so once a year she throws this massive party at her apartment. Last year I went as a ladybug, don't ask me why. Any suggestions for this year's costume?

I saw your mom the other day, we had lunch and talked about you; I now know all about your secret stash of science journals and your addiction to chocolate muffins. Oh and she also let me see some of your school photos, you were very cute when you were little you know, all that floppy hair and those great big eyes, just adorable. No wonder you're such a heartbreaker now.

I've seen Lisa a few times as well, she and Tucker are still together. I like her, she's nice and she used to date a guy in the army so she's been very sweet since you went away. Tucker's been great too, we all went out for a drink the other night and Lisa and I had a few too many cocktails. I swear I am never drinking more than one Mai Tai ever again!

I miss you a lot. I miss talking to you, the sound of your voice, the way you laugh. I miss falling asleep in your arms and still being there when I wake up. I miss the kisses and the hugs and I know this is starting to get really sappy but I can't help it, I miss you.

Anyway, that's probably enough from me. I'm sure you have far more important things to do than sit and read my terrible prose. Write soon.

All my love, your Claire."

He stared at the signature for a moment. _Your Claire_.

"My Claire," he murmured with a smile before casting around for some paper and a pen.

***

_"Did she write often?"_

_A smile._

_"Once a week, just like she promised."_

_"Long letters?"_

_"Sometimes. Sometimes just short notes."_

_"How often did you reply?"_

_"As often as I could." He looks down at his hands, guilt flashing momentarily across his features. "Sometimes it would be two or three weeks before I got a chance."_

_"She ever send you photos?"_

_The small smile is back again._

_"Yeah."_

***

The envelope was thicker than the others and he tore it open with excitement. Inside there was the usual letter and a selection of photographs. It was just after Halloween and Claire had sent photos of the party she had been to. She had gone as a cat and Mac thought she looked adorable in her black leggings and leotard, whiskers painted on her cheeks and cat ears in her hair. There was a good one of her and Cindy, who was dressed as a cowgirl, and one of Claire with damp hair plastered to her face and an apple clamped between her teeth. There were a couple of others as well, one or two of Tucker and Lisa, with whom he seemed to be going steady at the moment. There was also one of Betsy, little devil horns strapped to her head as she gazed dopily at the camera, his mother in the background, laughing.

He kept the photos along with her letters in a little tin box at the bottom of his foot locker, away from prying eyes; not that anyone in his unit was given to prying, they were smarter than that.

However there was one picture he kept inside the dust jacket of an old copy of his favourite book which was stashed beneath his pillow. It was a picture of Claire, alone in her bedroom. She knelt on the end of the bed, blowing a kiss towards the camera, wearing only the undershirt he had left at her apartment. On the back, in black marker pen, she had written, "Sweet dreams, love Claire." He would lie awake and stare at that picture every night before finally drifting off for a few hours, her smile still floating before his tired eyes, watching over him.

Christmas came and went and with it New Year. Like the rest of his unit Mac received presents from home; silly little things that would survive the trip, but they were still precious. His card from Claire had a big red lipstick print at the bottom, a kiss for Christmas. Suffering a momentary bout of holiday blues he held the card to his cheek, letting the mark of her lips touch his skin, pretending for a moment that she was really there. When he finally drew away there was a small smudge of lipstick on his cheek which he reluctantly wiped away.

"Merry Christmas," he murmured quietly to the empty tent.

Shortly after the New Year he received a letter from his mother. She was worried about Claire who had apparently been silent and troubled of late. From the little she was able to get out of her Moira surmised that it had something to do with Claire's mother but she didn't want to pry too much. Mac wrote to Claire, asking her what was wrong: apparently Dan, who had sworn never to discuss his sister's private life with their mother since the incident with the baby, had gotten drunk on New Year's Eve and let slip that she was seeing someone and now her mother was pestering her with phone calls and attempting to interrogate her friends to find out all about this new man.

Mac felt bad. He remembered the bitterness in her voice that night when she had spoken about her mother. His unit had a few days' leave at a nearby army base and he was able to bribe someone in the office into letting him use the phone. It took a while for the call to go through but eventually he heard the ring at the other end and a few seconds later Claire's familiar voice answering.

"Claire Conrad?"

"Claire honey it's me."

"Mac? Oh my God Mac, is that you?"

"Yeah it's me."

"Oh God, it's so good to hear your voice again."

"You too."

"You sound so far away." She laughed at herself. "I guess you kinda are."

"I guess so. Listen Claire, I got that letter you sent me about your mom. Are you okay?"

She groaned slightly.

"Not really."

"Anything I can do?"

"Do you know any good snipers?"

He chuckled at that.

"Sorry, ordering a military hit on a civilian target is somewhat beyond my authority."

"Maybe I should trade you in for a general," she teased.

"Sorry, no upgrades available at the moment."

"I guess I'm stuck with you then."

"I guess you are."

There was a comfortable silence for a few moments but then Mac noticed the impatient corporal in charge of the phone looking pointedly at his watch.

"I don't have much time left," he said apologetically. "Are you sure there's nothing I can do?"

She sighed.

"You could promise to come home safe."

There was a slight crack in her voice and Mac bit his lip. Being away from Angela had never been this hard.

"I promise," he practically whispered down the line.

"Then I feel better already."

The corporal was glaring at him now.

"I have to go now."

"Okay. I love you."

"I love you too. Tell mom and Tucker I said hi."

"I will."

"Bye."

"Bye."

The line went dead and he knew it wasn't because Claire had hung up.

"You're a real piece of work, you know that," he muttered at the corporal who took the phone from him, settling it back in its cradle.

The man grinned at him, taking the money from Mac's outstretched hand.

"Pleasure doing business with you sir," he replied brightly.

Mac thrust his hands deep into his pockets and stalked out of the office into the compound, cursing quietly under his breath.


	12. Reunion

**Sorry I'm so late this week, had a lot to do. Hope you like this one.**

**Love and lollipops, Jill xx**

* * *

**Chapter 12: Reunion**

It was another two months before he got home leave again. Walking through the airport there was a decided spring in his step as he thought about seeing Claire that evening. They had agreed to meet at Archie's later, although in all honesty he couldn't see them staying too long.

Leaving customs he walked down the tunnel and out into the main concourse of the airport, heading for the exit. He was halfway across the room when he heard someone calling his name. Turning towards the voice his face split into an idiotic grin when he saw Claire running towards him, her face glowing with happiness as she dodged through the crowd.

Dropping his bag he caught her as she leapt into his arms, swinging her around with glee as he hugged her tightly and she squealed with delight. Finally putting her down, he kissed her greedily. It felt so good to have her back in his arms.

There was a smattering of applause and a few wolf whistles from the surrounding crowd but neither of them was paying much attention.

"What are you doing here?" he asked when they broke for air. "I thought we were going to meet up later?"

"I couldn't wait," she said and he laughed, leaning down to kiss her again.

"Me either," he said.

"I missed you so much," she told him, hugging him tightly and burying her face into his neck.

He gave her a squeeze, nuzzling her hair and kissing her head.

"I missed you too," he whispered.

When they finally got control of themselves he picked up his bag and, with it in one hand and his other arm around Claire's shoulders, they left the airport.

***

Catching a cab into the city they huddled together in the back, neither wanting to let go now that they were together. Mac stroked her hair and kissed her temple repeatedly and every time he did Claire would look up at him and smile before curling back into his side. They didn't talk much, letting the cabbie ramble on about road works and building sites until they reached the house.

Taking his belongings from the trunk Mac heard a familiar bark and turned to see Betsy bouncing on the front step, his mother behind her.

"Come on in you two," called Moira, "it's freezing out there."

Bundling into the house they were met with mugs of steaming coffee and cherry pie, straight from the oven.

"Mm, this is amazing," praised Claire, happily tucking in. "I need to learn to bake."

Mac groaned.

"There's nothing more dangerous than a woman with her own supply of cake," he said.

Claire shoved him playfully, sticking out her tongue as she did so. Moira just laughed at them.

"Maybe if I wasn't so good at baking you wouldn't have such a sweet tooth," she said.

Mac grinned at his mother.

"What would be the fun in that?" he asked, licking pie juice from the corner of his mouth, making Moira shake her head and Claire giggle.

A few hours later, once they had cleaned up, Mac was surprised to see his mother take her coat from the hallway.

"Where are you off to?" he asked.

"Jenny Archer just got out of hospital," she explained. "I promised I'd go visit. You two be okay for a little while?"

"Sure, see you later mom."

Hearing the door close Claire came out of the kitchen.

"Where did your mom go?" she asked.

"Friend just got out of hospital."

"Mrs Archer?"

Mac frowned.

"How do you know that?"

"She fell down the stairs last month. I kept an eye on Betsy a couple of times when your mom went to visit."

Mac shook his head in amazement.

"Sounds like you've been spending a lot of time around here."

She shrugged slightly, wrapping her arms around herself.

"I like your mom," she said quietly.

Mac smiled and pulled her into his arms.

"How about spending a little time with me?" he asked, trailing his lips lightly along her jaw.

"Sounds nice," she murmured in reply and then pulled back slightly. "What about Betsy?" she asked.

"Oh I think Betsy can look after herself for an hour or so," he replied, nuzzling her cheek, making her chuckle.

"An hour? You're keen."

"It's been a while."

"Tell me about it."

He kissed her, letting his hands wander over her back, her fingertips stroking the short hair at the nape of his neck. He pulled her tightly against him, feeling her moan into his mouth.

Grabbing her hand he pulled her towards the stairs. They stumbled upwards together, kissing and fumbling as they went, bumping the walls as they found their way to his room.

Her skin was warm beneath her sweater, as smooth and soft as he remembered. She felt so good.

"God I missed you," he mumbled between heated kisses, pulling her down onto the bed with him, wrapping them both in the clean sheets his mother had put on the bed that morning.

She moaned his name, gripping his shoulders tightly as he pressed her into the mattress. Five and a half months of pent-up need and want finding their natural and longed-for release in the happy warmth of their embrace.

Afterwards, as they cuddled beneath the duvet, Mac felt happier than he had in years. Much as he had longed to have Claire back in his arms, the imagining if it was nothing compared to the sheer joy he felt now.

"Mac?"

"Hm?"

Her head was tucked into his shoulder and her index finger traced patterns on his stomach.

"I need to ask you a favour."

He smiled at the top of her head.

"What is it?"

"I called my dad the other day."

She didn't continue and Mac didn't push her. He was pretty sure he knew what was coming.

"I was wondering if you would… if you would come to dinner at my parents place on Sunday?"

He stroked her arm with his thumb.

"Sure."

She turned her head, looking up at him.

"You will?"

He leant down and kissed her lightly.

"Yes."

She smiled up at him before snuggling back down against his chest, her finger continuing its ministrations. Mac stroked her arm again.

A little while later he heard his mother come back. Claire was out like a light and he hadn't the heart to wake her. Instead he slipped out of bed and pulled on some jeans and a sweater, turning to kiss her lightly and pull the duvet a little closer around her before he slipped out of the door.

"Hey honey," called Moira when she heard Mac enter the kitchen behind her. "Where's Claire?"

"Asleep."

Moira only smiled and nodded.

Mac pulled up a chair at the kitchen table.

"How was Mrs Archer?" he asked.

"Better. She said hello."

He nodded.

"Sounds like Claire's been spending a lot of time here while I was gone," he said.

Moira gave a small chuckle.

"Oh yes," she said, "we've been seeing quite a lot of one another." She fixed him with a suddenly serious look. "I like her Mac," she said quietly. "She's a nice girl and she loves you."

Mac smiled at his mother, glad that the two women in his life had formed such a bond in his absence. Despite all the bustling about she seemed to do Mac knew his mother got terribly lonely when he was away. Having someone around who missed him as much as she did was clearly a comfort.

But his smile began to fade as he thought about what Claire had asked him earlier.

"What's wrong honey?" asked Moira, leaning back against the counter.

Mac sighed.

"Claire asked me to have dinner with her parents on Sunday."

She nodded.

"And?"

Mac shrugged.

"And Claire and her mother don't talk. It's going to be uncomfortable for her."

Coming forward Moira slid into the seat opposite him.

"And you don't want her to be uncomfortable. Or is it that you don't want her to be uncomfortable for your sake?"

Mac frowned at her.

"I just don't want her to do something she doesn't want to."

Moira smiled, reaching across the table to touch his hand.

"This is something she obviously feels she needs to do, and she needs you by her side."

Mac nodded, squeezing her hand.

"Thanks mom."  
She smiled at him before looking at the ceiling.

"I think I hear your girl up and about," she said. "Why don't you go back up and I'll see what I can do about some dinner."

Grinning, Mac climbed back up the stairs, tapping lightly at his bedroom door.

"Can I come in?" he asked.

"Only if you remember where you threw my underwear," came the frustrated sigh from within.

Laughing, Mac opened the door to find Claire in only her sweater, the bed sheet wrapped around her waist as she ferreted under the bed. He bent and scooped her up into his arms, setting her on his lap as he sat back on the bed.

"Sorry, wasn't paying much attention," he said, as she whacked him lightly on the arm but he kissed her and she gave in, leaning into him and winding her arms around his neck.

"Mm," she mumbled when he pulled back. "That's nice. One more?"

He pressed another kiss to her willing lips.

This time when she pulled away she gave a little whoop of glee and leaning over his shoulder she came back with her underpants hooked over the end of her finger.

"Found them!" she declared.

Mac laughed again, allowing her to slip out of his lap and slide the underwear up her legs behind the sheet before dropping it to the ground. Mac couldn't help but stare at those long, perfect limbs of hers. She caught him looking and struck a pose.

"Like what you see?" she asked.

He stood, stalking towards her and running a hand up her thigh.

"Absolutely," he whispered, leaning in to kiss her again.

A sound from downstairs made her pull back.

"Is your mom home?" she hissed, like a teenager caught making out with her boyfriend.

"Yeah."

She squeaked and whacked him again.

"Why didn't you say so? I'm walkin' around in my underwear up here!"

"I like it when you walk around in your underwear," he teased and she gave him a shove.

"Go downstairs and let me get dressed," she said, motioning him towards the door.

Chuckling he left the room. Standing on the stairs he could hear his mother in the kitchen, singing as she cooked, and upstairs he could still make out the sound of Claire scuffling around trying to get dressed and muttering to herself as she did so. He smiled quietly to himself. It was good to be home again.


	13. The Queen Bee

**Sorry about the lateness again, hell of a week I'm afraid and I doubt it's going to get much better in the next few weeks. From now on updates will be a bit more sporadic, although hopefully still one a week or so. I'm afraid this has to take a back seat to course work for the moment.**

**Anyway, hope you guys like this chapter and thanks for the reviews as always.**

* * *

**Chapter 13: The Queen Bee**

Sunday came all too quickly and Mac found himself in his best suit, exiting a cab outside of a large old house that would have looked more at home in Boston than Chicago. Moving through the gates to knock on the door, he felt Claire grasp his hand tightly.

Glancing at her he could see her biting her lip. She seemed more nervous now than he had ever seen her, even more so than when she had met his own family that night at the restaurant.

"Hey," he whispered, making her look up at him, "I'm right here okay?"

She smiled and he clasped her hand tightly in both of his, allowing her to lean against him slightly.

"Thanks," she whispered in return.

The door was opened by the familiar form of Daniel Conrad, blonde hair still flopping into his bright blue eyes.

"Evening sis," he drawled, "good to see you."

"Hey Dan."  
She leaned forward, kissing him on the cheek. Then he grinned at Mac.

"Hey there," he said.

"Hi Dan."

"Come on in."

It was a beautiful house, expensive but tasteful in every detail. Dan took their coats and then led them through the hall and into the living room where two people sat, both of them rising as they entered the room.

The previous evening Claire had given him a potted history of her parents and he was amused to see that the mental picture he had constructed of them had proved accurate.

Jacob Conrad was small and slim with dark hair, a good natured smile and warm eyes. He had the face of a man who had had to fight to be where he was but had enjoyed the experience. He looked tired but content and genuinely happy to see his daughter and her new boyfriend.

"Hey there pumpkin," he said, pulling Claire into a hug and kissing her cheek.

"Hi dad."

Putting out a hand he smiled at the younger man.

"Hi there, you must be Mac."

"Pleasure to meet you Mr Conrad."

"Please, just call me Jake. This is my wife Adele."

Icy eyes looked him up and down.

"Mr Taylor."

No handshake but a thin smile.

"Ma'am."

He remembered Claire telling him that her mother had been a beauty queen back home in New Hampshire and it showed. She stood tall, her head held high, her appearance immaculate in every way. She looked like her daughter but lacked that gentleness of expression which made Claire's face shine with warmth.

"Anybody want a drink?" asked Dan, heading for the liquor cabinet.

"Dinner will be ready soon Daniel," said his mother in a warning voice and he turned back with a sulky expression.

"Please, take a seat," said Mr Conrad pleasantly.

Taking a place on one of the two sofas Mac found Claire pressed against his side in a very different attitude to her mother who perched on the edge of the opposite sofa, a good distance away from her husband who leant back easily into his seat.

"So Mac, tell us a little about yourself," he said.

"What do you want to know?" he replied, not at all sure what he should say.

"Anything would be nice," said Adele, fixing her daughter with an accusing stare.

"Claire's been a little tight lipped about you," explained her father gently. "I'm afraid all we really know is your name."

"And that you have as good taste in wine as you do in women," added Dan from where he lounged in an armchair to Mac's right.

Mac had asked Claire the previous evening whether or not her parents knew about Dan.

"You mean do they know their little boy is gay?" she'd asked bluntly and he'd nodded.

The last thing he wanted was to get into a conversation with her parents and accidentally reveal that their son was homosexual.

"Yes, they know. Mom isn't terribly happy about it but then you've probably worked out by now that my mother is never happy about anything."

"And your dad?"

She'd smiled at him.

"Dad's pretty easy going about most things," she'd told him. "It's kind of a reaction to being a lawyer. Professionally he has to be pretty conservative but privately he's very accepting."

That had given Mac a little confidence that he might be able to make a good impression on at least one of her parents.

"I have to admit that my mom told me what wine to buy that night," he said, making both Dan and his father chuckle.

Claire however could only raise a faint smile and her mother gave no indication whatsoever that she had even heard him.

"A man who listens to his mother, that would be a first around here," said Jake smiling slyly at his son, who laughed.

"Let's face it dad, I've never listened to you either," he replied.

"True."

There was some more chuckling before Adele's voice cut icily into the conversation.

"So what exactly do you do?" she asked, her sharp, inquisitive eyes boring into his.

"I'm a marine ma'am."

The woman was barely able to conceal her look of distaste. She looked as though she was about to reply but her husband leant forward in his seat and spoke.

"Really? What rank?"

"Lieutenant."

Adele wrinkled her nose silently.

"I see. Have you been in the service long?" continued Jacob.

"Since I was seventeen."

Dan gave a low whistle but his father ignored him, clearly taking an interest.

"So you left school early to join up I take it?"

"Yes sir. I always wanted to be a marine, the quicker I could get in the better."

Adele made a small scoffing noise, making Mac bristle. His lack of formal education might be a black mark against him in her book, but he'd rather be a marine than the kind of slick yuppie you saw arguing with traffic cops down town after another liquid lunch.

"Was anyone else in your family a marine?"

"No, but my father was in the army."

Jake nodded slightly.

"I had an older brother who was in Korea," he said.

Mac noticed the past tense and chose not to ask but Jake continued anyway.

"He didn't come home."

He looked away sadly, clearly caught off-guard by the reminder but his attention was brought back by Adele who cleared her throat sharply, glaring at her husband. The subject was clearly not to be discussed any further.

"Anyway," continued Jake, rallying under his wife's stare. "I think dinner must be about ready. Why don't you come on through."

Mac rose, taking his silent girlfriend by the hand and following her family through into the dining room. It was, he thought, not going to be an easy evening.

***

_"What was for dinner?"_

_"Baked ham."_

_"Any good?"_

_"It was alright. Claire's mother wasn't much of a cook."_

_"What did you talk about?"_

_He shrugs, rubbing a hand over his tired face._

_"Nothing in particular. What do you talk about the first time you meet your girlfriend's parents? We talked about how Claire and I met, family, me being a marine."_

_"Did Claire relax?"_

_"After a while."_

_"And her mother?"_

_He gives a slightly bitter laugh._

_"I don't think I've ever seen her relaxed, not around me anyhow."_

_"That bad huh?"_

_"You have no idea."_

_"Give me one."_

***

She was polite; icily, achingly, viciously polite.

She asked questions about his family, the area he grew up in, his school; did he enjoy his short time there? All of it spoken through thin lips quirked into a cold smile, her tone sweet but poisonous. If she had stood and berated him for being a lower-class dullard' a brainless navy grunt with no prospects and no hope she could not have infuriated him more.

Somehow her politeness made it worse. He could not fault her words and only the keenest ear could have heard her disagreeable tone; but Mac's ears were keen enough and he could tell by the way she ground her teeth, and glared across the table at her mother, that Claire knew what was going on as well.

He couldn't help liking her father though; he found him to be both sensible and kind, with a dry sense of humour. He asked Mac more questions about the Marines and Mac was happy to oblige his curiosity.

"Oh Jacob do stop badgering our guest with those silly questions," cut in Adele at one point, sighing in exasperation.

Jake smiled at Mac.

"I'm afraid my wife doesn't share my interest in our countries armed forces," he said.

"No," replied Adele. "I just don't believe in cruelty to dumb animals. More potatoes Mr Taylor?"

"Adele."

Jacob's voice was sharp and carried a warning tone, but his wife only blinked at him questioningly.

"Yes dear? Would you care for more potatoes?"

"I think you had better apologise for that remark," he told her, ignoring her attempts to divert.

"Apologise? Why, it was only a little joke. You weren't offended by my little joke were you Mr Taylor?"

Her eyes held a challenge but Mac thought it unwise to start a fight. Instead he shook his head.

"Of course not. I'll take some of those potatoes, thank you."

Across the table he could see Claire releasing a deep breath and he felt her foot brush gently against his. They rubbed ankles momentarily, both drawing comfort from the contact.

Despite her obvious displeasure at her mother's comments regarding her boyfriend Claire managed to maintain a level of civility towards her which gave Mac an odd sense of pride: his Claire was not a woman to be easily cowed.

Dinner finished pleasantly enough and afterwards they went back to the living room for coffee. A little while later Mac excused himself to go to the bathroom.

Pausing outside the door for a few moments he heard Jacob say, "Well, I like him."

Mac would have been happy to leave then had he not heard Claire's mother give an exasperated sigh.

"Oh Jacob you like everyone," she said, not bothering to mask her frustration.

"What's wrong with him?"  
"What's wrong with him? Where would you like me to start? I mean he's a Marine, a Marine for heaven's sake! I mean, what on earth am I supposed to do with that?"

"You don't have to do anything _with _him mother," he heard Claire say defiantly.

"Yeah," chimed in Dan. "I'd say he's pretty damn fine the way he is."

"Daniel!" exclaimed his mother and Mac had to swallow a chuckle.

"Oh Adele, leave them alone," said Jacob before changing the topic of conversation, and Mac slid away to find the bathroom.

On his way back he stopped to look at a photograph which hung on the wall, outside one of the bedrooms. It was a family picture taken when Claire was only about ten years old and Dan perhaps four or five. A smiling Adele held both her children close to her while Jacob held her from behind.

They looked happy.

"She wasn't always a bitch you know."

He turned to see Dan standing behind him, looking at the picture before him.

"What happened?" asked Mac, taking another look at the cheerful and really very beautiful woman in the photograph.

"Just life I guess."

"What do you mean?"

Dan shrugged slightly.

"You have to remember, mom grew up in a place and a time where being a socialite was a job in itself. Unfortunately no one pays you to be sociable. She married dad because he had prospects and enough brains to hang on to whatever money he made."

"And why did he marry her?"

"Because he loved her; still does I think."

"Did she love him?"

Dan smiled slightly.

"There were other guys she could have married; richer guys."

Mac let it slide.

"Anyway," Dan continued, "she had this nice life, rich husband, two kids. Then one morning she wakes up and the world is a different place to the one she grew up in."

Mac knew what he meant; it was something his mother had spoken about. She'd said that after Kennedy died the world seemed to spin off its axis. In a few short years everything seemed to fall apart, ending, for her, with the death of her husband. And while he couldn't imagine that Adele Conrad had had anything like that to deal with he could see why a woman like her might suddenly feel very out of place.

"What did she do?" he asked.

"What any drowning person does, she held on; to me, to Claire, especially to Claire. But Claire didn't appreciate being used as a life raft and the tighter mom tried to hold on the further away Claire got. The whole thing with Claire's kid was just another brick in the wall that had been building between them for years."

Mac nodded. He knew in many ways his own mother might have ended up like Adele, clinging to him in desperation in the absence of his father. But Moira Taylor was a strong woman, she had set him free and that was why he was happy to come home; she had let him decide his life for himself.

"What about you?" he asked.

Dan grinned at him.

"Oh, I think it's safe to say that I'm a big disappointment. Like I said, she wasn't always a bitch, but she is now. Now come on, if you don't get back soon Claire'll think you've abandoned her."

And so saying he turned and Mac followed him back to the living room where found Claire and her father talking animatedly over coffee while her mother stood by the window, nursing a martini.

"Hey, I was wondering where you had disappeared to," said Claire, smiling up at him as he took his seat on the sofa beside her.

"Got lost," he replied easily. "Dan had to come rescue me."

"Any time Mac," said Dan with another of his teasing winks.

Claire looked at her watch.

"It's kind of late," she said. "We should be getting back."

Adele turned back from the window.

"Claire darling why don't you stay here? There's some clean sheets in the linen closet. Jake, why don't you call Mr Taylor a cab while I go and fix Claire's room."  
Mac was amazed at the audacity of the woman. But it was clear that Claire was in no mood to be pushed around.

"No thank you," she said calmly. "Mac and I are going back to my place."

Adele's eyes blazed.

"I'll call a cab for you both," said Jake, getting up off the sofa and heading for the hall.

"Don't worry about it," said Claire, also getting to her feet. "We can grab one on the way back into town."

"But it's the middle of February, you'll freeze to death!" insisted Adele.

"Leave it mom," cut in Dan. "If Claire wants to freeze, let her freeze. Besides, I'm sure Mac can take the chill off when they get home."

Claire threw her brother a look and he blew her a kiss in return.

"If you're sure?" said Jake with a shrug.

"Really, it's alright," said Claire and taking Mac's hand she pulled him into the hall and towards the coat rack, the front door and freedom.

Mac helped her on with her coat before shaking hands with her father again.

"It was good to meet you Mac," he said. "I hope we'll be seeing more of you."

"Thank you sir, it was good to meet you too." He nodded to Adele over Jake's shoulder. "You too ma'm."

"Mr Taylor."

Claire hugged her father again and waved to her brother and then they were out in the cold and past the gate and into the street, the assembled Conrads still watching them from the doorway.

Instinctively Mac put an arm around Claire, sheltering her from the worst of the weather. Glancing over his shoulder he saw Jacob Conrad smiling after them with Dan peering over his shoulder, but Adele was nowhere to be seen.

"Well" he murmured as they wandered down the street, "that was fun."

Claire laughed before pulling him to a stop.

"Thank you for coming with me tonight," she said, looking up at him with genuine gratitude shining in her eyes.

"Not a problem," he whispered in return.

He traced the line of her jaw with one finger before cupping her face with both hands and kissing her tenderly. As he did so she leant into him, snuggling into the heat of his body as she wrapped her arms around him beneath his overcoat.

Pulling back slightly she grinned up at him.

"I love you," she said.

"I love you too. Come on, let's go home."

And keeping her tucked safely into his side they set off back towards the city.


	14. Evening In

**Practically on time this week lol. Anyhoo, thanks for allthe support you've given this story; think of this as a little reward.**

**This chapter especailly goes out to AIP, callit fuelfor the imagination ;D Hope you all enjoy.**

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**Chapter 14: Evening In**

Mac's mother was less than impressed with his description of Adele Conrad.

"Ordinarily I hate to judge a person without having met them," she said. "But from what both you and Claire have told me she sounds perfectly vile. _Just _a marine indeed!"

Mac could only smile to himself. Like most mothers Moira became defiant at the mere suggestion that there was something less than perfect about her child.

"Don't worry about it," he said, leaning over to kiss her cheek.

Moira huffed, still bristling from the insult to her son but she softened when she saw him still grinning at her.

"What are you doing today?" she asked eventually.

"I was gonna swing by the shop later and call in on Tucker."

"Claire working huh?"

"Yes."

Now it was Mac's turn to huff slightly. Moira knew that the time restrictions placed on his return home irritated him; and having Claire working long hours during the week meant that their time together was even more limited.

Mac was not by nature an overly impatient or possessive man so seeing him glare at the countertop at the mere mention of Claire's job only reinforced Moira's belief that her son and Claire were meant to be together. Anyone who could raise that sort of response from Mac had to be pretty special.

"If it's any consolation I'm sure she isn't enjoying being away from you either."

That managed to raise another smile.

"Why don't you do something nice for her tonight?" she suggested.

Mac looked up at her with a frown.

"What do you mean?"

"Well," said his mother, putting down the dish cloth she was holding, "from what you've told me neither of you had a good night last night, so why not make up for it tonight?"

Mac thought about it. Claire had been exhausted by the time they got back to her apartment the night before. She had practically fallen asleep in the cab. Apparently dealing with her mother took a lot out of her and she had been tired and bad tempered that morning. They hadn't planned to do anything that night, in fact Mac had been tempted simply to let her be for the rest of the day, maybe call later in the evening. He figured it was just Monday blues added to her reaction to spending time with her mother and the best remedy was probably a good night's sleep. However, his mother's suggestion had the cogs of his brain turning.

"Did you have anything in mind?" he asked.

***

Claire was not having a good day. She had a headache, she was tired and her clients were driving her crazy; it had to be a Monday.

To make matters worse her mother had tried to call. Thankfully Cindy had hung up on her, telling her that this line was for company business only. But Claire couldn't help wondering what she had wanted to talk about. No doubt she simply wanted to berate her for her choice of boyfriend once more.

Cindy's voice once again caught her attention, rising excitedly above the office hubbub.

"Hey there handsome. She's at her desk."

For a second Claire wondered who her friend could be talking to and then Mac appeared around the corner of her cubicle.

"Hi there," he said, "I'm looking for a beautiful woman, I was wondering if you could help me."

She chuckled but shook her head.

"Sorry sir, we only have tired, cranky ones at the moment."

"I suppose that'll have to do then," he replied, leaning down to kiss her cheek gently.

She smiled at him as he leant against her desk.

"Not that I mind, but what are you doing here?" she asked.

"I need a favour."  
"What kind of favour?"

"The fun kind."

Claire rolled her eyes but couldn't resist his playful smile.

"What do you need?" she asked finally.

"The key to your apartment."

She blinked, not the answer she had been expecting.

"What for?"

"So I can do you a favour," he said teasingly. "You scratch my back," he leant down to whisper in her ear, "and I will rub yours."

Claire felt a little shiver run through her body at his words as she allowed the thought of Mac's big strong hands smoothing over her tired body to run through her mind.

"Mm, sounds good," she murmured in return.

She reached into her purse and drew out her key, handing it over.

"Here."

"Thanks. What time will you be home?"

"Around six thirty."

"Alright then, see you at six thirty."

He stood, pushing her key into his pocket.

"I'm looking forward to it," she said and he smiled, leaning down to kiss her softly.

"Me too," he whispered.

He kissed her again, stroking her cheek before turning to go.

Claire leant back in her chair, watching him walk away, her eyes fixed on his butt as he disappeared around the corner. She grinned to herself. Suddenly her day looked much brighter.

***

Mac glanced nervously at the kitchen clock; it was almost six thirty. He was the first to admit that he wasn't the most romantic of men and had it not been for his mother's suggestion that morning he probably wouldn't be here right now; but that didn't mean he wasn't willing to try.

He had spent the afternoon getting everything ready for Claire's return, and had even called in Lisa and Tucker to help. Tucker had rolled his eyes and told him he was going soft but Lisa had been more than enthusiastic, throwing in a few of her own suggestions. Now everything was ready; dinner was cooking, the lights were dimmed and there was music playing quietly in the background.

There was a tap at the door and Mac bounced out of the kitchen towards it.

"Is it okay if I come in?" he heard Claire ask from the other side and he opened it with a grin.

"Hi there," he said.

"Hi there, I'm looking for the lady of the house?"

He folded his arms across his chest and leant against the frame.

"I'm afraid she's not in right now."

"Shame. Know when she'll be back?"

"Sorry."

"Mm, maybe I should come in and wait."

"I think that would be a good idea."

He pulled her close, kissing her firmly as he all but dragged her over the threshold and closed the door, leaning her up against it. When they finally broke apart she smiled up at him breathlessly.

"I don't think I've ever been so desperate to get home," she told him.

He kissed her again and she moaned into his mouth, dropping her purse and running her fingers through his hair.

"Mm, that's good," she whispered as he nuzzled her neck.

He pulled away, taking her hand and leading her over to the couch.

"Come on," he said softly, "take a seat."

He took her coat, hanging it with her purse on the coat rack. He went back to the kitchen and returned with a glass of wine which he handed to her. Kicking off her shoes she curled up on the couch with her glass.

"Thanks." She sniffed the air. "You cooked?"

"Yup, should be ready in a minute."

"I'm impressed."

"You might not be when you taste it."

She laughed.

"I'm sure it'll be fine."

Leaning up on her knees she pecked his cheek.

"I'm gonna set the table."

"'Kay."

She watched him pad about, setting side plates and cutlery at her kitchen table which he'd pulled into the living room and covered with a white cloth. There were candles too and some flowers in a little glass vase he'd borrowed from home.

He lit the candles and beckoned Claire, pulling out a chair for her. She sat down, smiling at him over the top of her wine glass.

He disappeared into the kitchen once more and came back with two plates.

"Smells good."

She picked up her fork eagerly and began to tuck in.

Mac watched her for a few minutes, smiling quietly as she closed her eyes, enjoying her food. After a minute or two she paused, looking at him.

"What?" she asked.

"You're beautiful," he said and she blushed.

"Eat your dinner before it gets cold," she scolded and he chuckled.

"You sound like my mother," he told her.

"That's not a bad thing."

They chatted over dinner, Claire alternately moaning about her day and praising Mac's cooking abilities.

"That was amazing," she told him, setting down her fork on the now empty plate before her.

"Thanks. Do you want dessert now or later?"

"Later, but I could use some more wine."

He cleared the plates and re-filled her glass, watching her stretch and grimace slightly.

"What's up?" he asked with concern.

"Nothing, just a little back ache. Serves me right for doing paperwork all day."

Mac laughed and then, grinning, he took her hand and led her back towards the couch.

"You know I'm sure I promised to give you a backrub this evening," he said softly, sitting on the floor and patting the space in front of him.

Giggling, Claire sat down between his legs, still holding her wine.

"I was hoping you'd remember that," she said.

Starting with her neck he began to carefully rub and knead her tired muscles and she let out little moans and whimpers at his touch. His hands went lower and he leant forward, raining little kisses across the back of her neck making her sigh happily.

"Mm, that feels so good," she mumbled as his thumbs caressed her spine, the heat of his hands warming her whole body as the tension she'd been holding inside for the last few days slowly slipped away.

When he was done she snuggled back against him and he wrapped his arms around her. She grabbed one of his hands and brought it to her face, examining it minutely.

"Looking for anything in particular?" he asked as she scrutinized his fingers.

"Trying to work out what makes your hands magic," she informed him and he chuckled.

"Only happens when I touch you."

She turned her head to look up at him and smiled, leaning up to kiss him.

They sat there quietly for a little while until Mac felt Claire shiver slightly. Her apartment wasn't the warmest place in the world and now that the heat from the kitchen had died down it was beginning to feel a little chilly.

"Why don't I run you a nice warm bath?" he suggested and she gave a little moan.

"That sounds perfect," she said. "Although," she smiled up at him suggestively, "I haven't had my dessert yet."

He kissed her forehead.

"In that case why don't we kill two birds with one stone and you can have your dessert in the bath?"

"How disgustingly decadent. It sounds wonderful."

He laughed at her, patting her arm.

"Alright then, you go and get changed and I'll run your bath."

She got up happily and bent down to kiss him once more before snagging her still half full wine glass and sashaying across the floor to her bedroom.

Mac watched her go before getting to his feet and heading to her small bathroom. He ran the water, filling it with scented bubbles and setting candles around the room, making it glow warmly.

"Wow!" said Claire from the doorway and he turned to see her dressed in her fluffy bathrobe.

She came towards him and leaned in for another kiss.

"This is great," she told him, brushing his nose with her own.

"Thanks. You better check the water; I don't know how hot you like it."

She bent over and tested it with her fingers.

"Feels just right."

"Good. Get in and I'll fetch your dessert."

She grinned at him and he ran back through to the kitchen, grabbing the plate, some cutlery and another bottle of wine.

When he got back to the bathroom Claire was already under the suds, her head leant back against the end, eyes closed and a smile on her face. In the soft light from the candles she looked more beautiful than ever. Opening her eyes she beckoned him.

"What did you bring me?" she asked in childish excitement, her eyes on the plate in his hand.

"Chocolate mousse and strawberries."

"Mm."

He handed her the plate and the fork and she licked her lips as he perched on the edge of the bath. The loaded fork was half way to her lips when she paused and frowned at him.

"You not having any?" she asked.

He shrugged; there was some more in the kitchen but to be honest he'd rather watch her.

"Of course," she said thoughtfully, "we could share. But you're a little far away, you'd have to come much closer."

He slid along the edge of the bath towards her but she shook her head teasingly.

"Closer."

He moved again but she continued to shake her head.

"Closer," she said again.

"There isn't any more bath to sit on," he informed her.

She smirked at him, leaning further back into the bubbles.

"Then I suppose you'll just have to come in here beside me."

"Are you trying to seduce me Miss Conrad?" he joked.

"Yup. Are you falling for it?"

"Definitely."

"Then take off your clothes and get your ass in this tub," she told him firmly.

Mac laughed, standing and pulling his sweater off, followed by his t-shirt. Bending to remove his socks he noticed Claire watching him hungrily and couldn't help the blush he felt spreading across his face.

Wordlessly she shifted forward in the bath, allowing him to slip in behind her when he was finished undressing, pulling her back against his chest.

"Better?" he enquired as she finally began to eat her dessert.

"Much."

Twisting around slightly she held her fork up to his mouth and he tried the mousse. It wasn't bad, although he wasn't really much of a one for chocolaty desserts. Together they cleared the plate and he set it on the floor. Grabbing the other bottle of wine he filled both their glasses, handing one to her, stroking her arm as she relaxed against him.

"I don't know what I did to deserve you," she murmured, "but it must have been good."

He chuckled softly.

"Thank you for this," she continued quietly, "I needed it."

"I know." He kissed her temple as she pulled his arms a little tighter around her, closing her eyes and sighing softly.

But their blissful bubble was popped by the ringing of the telephone in the other room. Claire groaned, huddling against him.

"Go away," she muttered against his shoulder.

"That's the fourth time today," he said, more to himself than to her.

She looked up at him and frowned.

"Who keeps calling?" she asked.

He shook his head.

"Don't know, I didn't want to answer it in case it was private. I figured if anyone wanted to get in touch with you they would just call the office or call back later."

The phone was still ringing. Claire sighed.

"Maybe I should get that," she muttered, pulling away from him reluctantly and getting out of the bath, grabbing her robe as she headed through to the living room.

He heard her pick up the receiver and mumble tiredly. There was quiet for a moment and then he heard her gasp sharply. Her voice, when she spoke again, was full of anxiety.

Concerned, Mac got out of the bath, drying himself quickly and wrapping the towel around his waist. Moving to the doorway he saw Claire leaning heavily against the wall, the phone dangling by her side.

"Claire, what is it?" he asked, moving to her.

She looked up at him, blinking.

"It was my mother," she said. "There's been an accident, Dan's in hospital."


	15. Black and Blue

**Thanks to AIP for the prodding to post this next chapter. Hope it lives up to expectations :D**

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**Chapter 15: Black and Blue**

It seemed to take forever to get to the hospital. Claire was pale and silent, her hand cold in his.

When they finally got there a blonde in scrubs directed them down a corridor potted with identical beige doors. Mac was tempted to go back and ask exactly which one they were meant to go through when one of them opened and Jacob appeared, his arm in a sling and the side of his head covered in a bandage.

"Daddy!" gasped Claire, running towards him.

"Hey baby," he said, offering her a one-armed hug, kissing her hair. He looked over her shoulder and smiled. "Hi Mac."

Mac nodded.

"Daddy what happened, where's Dan?"

"Drunk driver ploughed right into us at an intersection on the way back from lunch."

"Oh God!"

Claire buried her face in her father's shoulder.

"Hey, it's okay, Dan's okay. He broke a couple of ribs and he has a concussion but other than that it's just cuts and bruises. They're just keeping him in overnight for observation, he should be good to go tomorrow."

Claire looked up at him with teary eyes.

"What about you?" she asked.

"Just a fracture and a bump on the head, I'll be fine; we're both gonna be fine."

Mac felt relief wash over him as the other man spoke but the feeling subsided as the door opened once again and Adele Conrad stepped out into the hallway.

"Claire, where on earth have you been!" she exclaimed at the sight of her daughter.

Claire hung her head, keeping close to her father.

"I've been trying to call you all day but that little witch at your office kept telling me you were out."

"I'm sorry," murmured Claire, her voice barely audible.

"Dan's been asking for you."

"I'm sorry," she repeated.

"Don't worry pumpkin," said her father, rubbing her shoulder soothingly. "You're here now, that's what matters."

Adele looked like she wanted to continue but held her tongue.

Lifting her head once more Claire said, "Can I see him?"

"Sure," said Jacob, ushering her towards the door. "He's just in here."

She paused at the doorway, turning back towards Mac.

"I'll wait for you," he said gently and she nodded, disappearing through the doorway and leaving him alone in the corridor with Adele.

There was silence for a moment or two. Mac leant against the wall and stared at the linoleum beneath his feet. It was that rather odd shade of avocado green that made him think of bathroom show rooms.

"Why are you here?" asked Adele bluntly.

He glanced up at her.

"I came with Claire," he replied as though it was obvious.

"Why?"

He shrugged.

"I was worried about Dan."

She glared at him.

"My son's health does not concern you," she said sharply. "You are not a member of this family."

Mac ground his teeth. He really didn't want to fight with her, not here, not now. Instead he swallowed his anger and pushed himself away from the wall.

"I'm going to get a cup of coffee," he said. "Can I get you anything?"

She didn't answer, turning instead and going back into her son's room.

Mac let out a sigh and headed off down the corridor in an attempt to find the canteen.

* * *

The coffee came in a paper cup and the heat from it burned his fingers but he didn't really care. He sat in a corner with his head bent. He felt sick, sick and guilty.

It had been Adele who had been calling Claire's apartment all afternoon, he was sure of it. If he had bothered to answer the phone Claire could have been here hours ago.

He knew Claire felt guilty too. She had asked Cindy to refuse any calls from her mother and had spent the evening being pampered instead of being at her brother's side. The fact that she couldn't have known what had happened made no difference.

He had seen the look on her face when her mother had spoken to her and knew that Adele would use her daughter's guilt against her and against him.

He hung his head even more.

"This seat taken?"

He looked up to see Jacob standing before him, a tired smile on his bruised face.

Mac shifted slightly, looking around the nearly empty canteen.

"Make yourself at home," he said.

The older man sat down beside him.

"How are you feeling sir?" Mac asked.

"Sore," was the reply. "Sore and tired and a little shaken up still."

"What happened to the guy who hit you?"

Jake looked at the ceiling.

"Dead. Impact broke his neck, no seatbelt."

Mac nodded silently.

"Dan's asking for you."

He was surprised.

"Really?"

Jake smiled again.

"I think he's rather fond of you. He doesn't usually take to Claire's boyfriends."

"I'm flattered."

Jake chuckled.

"You should be. Dan's the only one Claire'll listen to when it comes to men. He got into a fight with the guy who took her to the senior prom, only fight he's ever been in; the guy had gotten a little frisky and she'd come home in tears so Dan gave him a black eye and got his nose broken in return. After that he swore he'd never defend Claire again but then a few months later he saw her new boyfriend making out with another girl in the park and he pushed them both in the duck pond. These days he's more subtle, just turns on the charm and watches them scatter; Claire wouldn't have anything to do with a man who couldn't accept Dan for who he is. You must have made a pretty good impression on him, I know you made one on me."

"Thank you sir."

"It's Jake, remember?"

"Sorry, old habit."

"Don't worry about it. Go on now."

Mac rose, handing his untouched coffee to Jake.

"Here."

"Thanks."  
"You gonna be okay?"

"I'll be fine. Thanks. Oh, if you see my wife let her know where I am."

"Will do."

But he didn't see Adele. When he opened the door to Dan's room he saw only Dan and Claire in the dim light of the lamp. Dan had a bandage on one cheek and a massive bruise on the other and there was a drip in his arm.

"Well hi there handsome," croaked Dan, trying to grin but only managing a grimace.

"How you doing kid?"

"I'm great. Didn't you know black eyes were this season's must?"

He chuckled, closing the door and taking the chair on one side of the bed. Claire sat on the other and Mac was glad to see that she had some colour back in her face.

"Stylish," he said and Dan gave a dry laugh.

"Claire's been tellin' me about your evening; sorry to go and spoil everything."

"Don't worry about it."

"But it sounded so cosy; the dinner, the massage, the bubble bath."

Mac blushed slightly.

"Don't be modest," continued Dan "I think it sounds wonderful, especially the part with you in the bath." He laughed again but it came out as a kind of hacking cough.

Mac picked up a glass of water from the stand beside the bed and handed it to him. Dan swallowed it down and groaned, leaning back against the pillow and closing his eyes.

"I suppose that serves me right for teasing you," he muttered.

Mac smiled slightly.

"I guess so."

Dan yawned and Claire stood.

"It's late," she said. "We should let you get some rest."

"Mm."  
She leant over and kissed his cheek.

"Night."

"Night sis."

She came around the bed and Mac turned to open the door.

"Hey, Mac."

He turned back towards the young man in the bed.

"Don't let my mother frighten you off."

Mac grinned and reached out, grasping his hand and giving it a light squeeze.

"Night Dan."

"Night."

He followed Claire back into the green and beige corridor, closing the door softly behind him. Claire turned to him, wordlessly burying her face into his chest, and he hugged her. Over the top of her head he saw her parents coming back down the hallway, Jake's arm around his wife's shoulders.

"He asleep?" asked Jake when they neared the younger couple.

"Just dropping off," said Mac.

Claire turned in his arms.

"Are you going home?" she asked.

"Yes," replied her father.

"Do you want to come with us honey?" said Adele. "You could come back with us tomorrow and bring Dan home."

Claire bit her lip and Mac had to resist the urge to tighten his hold on her. Her mother had spoken gently but he could see the way her eyes lit up at Claire's hesitation. Claire turned to look up at him.

"Do you mind?" she asked timidly.

"Of course not," he said, trying to keep his voice level.

"In that case, maybe I will go home with you," she said to her parents.

"Alright then."

She stood on her tiptoes and kissed Mac's cheek.

"I love you," she whispered.

"I love you too. Call me and tell me how Dan is."

"I will do. Thank you for tonight."

He kissed her lightly and let her go. Her mother reached out and pulled her close, stroking her hair.

"Come on honey," she said. But Claire paused and looked back at Mac.

"Are you okay to get home?" she asked.

"I'll be fine."

"You heard him Claire," said her mother, gently pulling her away. "I'm sure he can look after himself."

Jake smiled and nodded to him and Mac nodded back.

"Goodnight Mac."

"Night sir."

Mac watched the Conrads walk away from him. Only Adele looked back, a look of triumph on her face.


	16. Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word

**Sorry for the dealy on this chapter, been crazy busy at work and at uni. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this one.**

**P.S To cheer her up a bit this chapter is dedicated to AIP. Take heart my dear.**

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**Chapter 16: Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word**

"Is the kid gonna be okay?" asked Tucker.

They were at the shop, Mac perching on a heap of tires, Tucker half under a car, tinkering.

"Just keeping him in for observation, he should be home today."

"I guess that ain't so bad. How's Claire?"

"She was pretty shaken up."

"I can imagine. She better now?"

Mac glared at the floor.

"I wouldn't know. She went home with her parents last night."

"She what!"

There was a scraping noise as Tucker extricated himself from beneath the car, coming to stand in front of his friend with his hands on his hips.

"You mean to tell me you let that bitch take your girlfriend home with her? Who knows what kind of poison she's gonna feed her?"

"There wasn't a lot I could do about it," snapped Mac. "What was I supposed to say? I know your brother almost died but I don't want you to spend time with your family?"

Tucker threw up his hands but they both knew it was useless. Adele had played him and she had won. Tucker slid down onto the tires beside his friend, reaching out to lay a hand on his slumped shoulder.

"Hey, don't worry about it man. Like you said, the kid's gonna be fine. She'll probably just hang around to make sure he's okay and then she'll be back."

Mac sighed.

"I just wish it didn't feel like I lost a fight."

Tucker laughed.

"She's a mother, she's programmed not to like you. Her main aim in life is to stop you stealing her little girl away. The fact that Claire's mom also happens to be a genuine bitch only adds to the contest."

Mac gave another heavy sigh. He knew he shouldn't feel jealous but he couldn't help it, although talking to Tucker helped. His mother had been dependably sympathetic but there was something therapeutic about the body shop, something about the smell of oil and the tinny sound of the radio playing bad rock music. Besides, even at the age of twenty seven he felt uncomfortable swearing in front of his mother; the shop was simply the best place to let off steam.

He decided to take his friend's advice and simply wait it out. He did try calling her parents' place the following afternoon, just to see how Dan was doing, but there was no reply. But two days later there was still no sign of Claire and she hadn't been to work either.

That night he found himself walking in Claire's neighbourhood; he hadn't intended to go there, but when he looked up he was standing outside her building. Biting the bullet he decided to go up to her apartment, but there was no reply when he knocked.

Feeling tired and a little dejected he sighed, his body slumping into itself as he turned to leave. He made for the stairs but had barely made it down a flight when who should he see coming up the way but Claire.

Perhaps it was only the strip lighting in the stairwell but she looked dreadful, her face pale, dark circles encasing her usually bright eyes.

"Claire!" he exclaimed, concern lining his face as he took in her appearance.

She blinked up at him in confusion.

"What are you doing here?" she asked in bewilderment.

"I wanted to see you," he replied honestly. "How's Dan?"

"He's doing okay."

"I'm glad. How about your dad?"

"They're both fine. Look Mac, it's late and I'm kind of tired…"

"Sure," he said, a little hurt but seeing she looked ready to drop, "go get some sleep. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

She frowned at him.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, I mean, you've obviously been worrying about Dan and I know it can't have been easy staying with your mother…"

"What does she have to do with anything?"

Her sharp tone caught him off-guard and he balked slightly.

"Nothing, I just…"

"You were just worried."

"Yes."

"She's my mother Mac, I think I know how to deal with her. I don't see what she has to do with this anyway."

Mac didn't reply. He didn't know how to.

Claire let out a frustrated sigh.

"Look Mac, I'm tired and I have to go back to work tomorrow. I'll talk to you later."

"Okay," he said meekly, moving to one side to let her past, reaching out to catch her hand as she did so.

She looked down at his hand then up to his face. Tears sparkled just behind her eyes and he wanted to pull her into his arms and get her to tell him what was happening but she moved away, whispering, "Goodnight," as she did so.

Mac watched her go, anger and concern bubbling beneath the surface. What the hell was going on? What had that woman said? What had she done?

He shivered in the stairwell. He wouldn't get answers standing there all night. He desperately wanted to go back up to her apartment and talk to her but he doubted she'd answer the door in her present mood so he went home.

* * *

The next day he went back to the shop. There was a punching bag in the back that Tucker used to keep in shape on slow days. Rick had been known to slam it a few times as well, usually after a visit from his ex-wife. Tucker didn't ask why Mac wanted to use it, he just went back to work, casting an occasional glance in his friend's direction, watching as he laid into the defenceless object with all the fury a marine could muster.

When he had finally exhausted himself he collapsed onto the tire pile and closed his eyes, breathing deeply. He hadn't slept well the night before, visions of Claire's pale and tired face, her eyes full of tears, floating before his tormented mind.

He felt a tap on his shoulder and opened his eyes to see Tucker standing over him, a towel in one hand, a glass of water in the other.

"Thanks," he said with a small smile.

Tucker nodded silently and went back to work. If Mac wanted to talk he would talk, he didn't need prompting.

He lay back on the tires, studying the metal roof.

"So this is where they keep all the good looking men in Chicago," said a familiar voice from the entranceway. "I knew they had to be hiding them somewhere."

Mac sat up and raised his eyebrows at Dan. He didn't look as bad as he had expected. Bundled up against the February chill he was leaning on an old walking stick, the pain in his ribs clearly making it difficult to stand.

"Dan, what the hell are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in bed?"

"I got lonely," he replied moving further into the shop. "Dad and Claire are back at work and mom was out. Besides, what the doctor doesn't know can't hurt me."

"You didn't drive here, did you?"

"I may not be the sharpest knife in the drawer but I'm not totally stupid you know," was the reply. "I took a cab."

He shifted uncomfortably.

"You want to sit?" asked Mac, conscious that the kid must be in pain, despite his easy front.

"I wouldn't say no."

Tucker dragged a slightly battered deckchair over to them.

"Most comfortable thing we got," he said.

"Thanks," murmured Dan, his twinkling eyes looking the other man up and down.

"Uh, Tucker, this is Claire's brother, Dan Conrad. Dan, this is Tucker Gomez, my best friend."

"My pleasure," said Dan, smirking as they shook hands before lowering himself into the chair gratefully.

"Mac told me what happened, you okay kid?"

"Not too bad," he tapped the side of his face where the stitches from his laceration were visible, "I've been told the scar will make me look more rugged."

Mac chuckled slightly.

"You know I'd feel less like an invalid if you'd sit down too."

Mac pulled up a stool but Tucker shook his head.

"I got work to be gettin' on with."

"Shame," said Dan. "Never mind, I need to talk to this one anyway."

Mac didn't really like the sound of that.

"No worries," said Tucker. "Might get something done without him to distract me."

He grinned at Mac and then slunk off to the opposite side of the shop, turning up the radio as he did so to give them a little privacy.

"I'll bet you can be very distracting," flirted Dan but Mac only rolled his eyes at him.

"What are you doing here Dan?" he asked seriously.

The younger man sighed, settling back in his chair and closing his eyes.

"Well that would have a lot to do with my big sister. You see she called me last night. I thought it was a bit odd, seeing as she'd only left the house less than an hour before. But I never could refuse a tearful phone call."

Mac sat up a little straighter.

"She was crying?" he asked softly.

"Hmm, seems she ran into someone on the way home and they had a bit of an argument." He opened one eye and looked at Mac. "Wouldn't know anything about that would you?" he asked sweetly.

Mac looked at the floor.

"It wasn't really an argument," he said tiredly. "We just… I don't know; she was tired and she didn't want to talk to me."

"No. Then again Claire never feels like talking much when she's feeling guilty."

"Guilty?" Mac said in surprise, and then he remembered his own thoughts on the night they'd gone to the hospital. "Because she didn't answer the phone," he muttered.

But Dan laughed; a sharp guffaw that made Mac look at him with a frown.

"God no!" he exclaimed. "Well, I mean yes, she did feel pretty guilty about that; at least until she found out that it took the hospital staff two hours to get in touch with mom. They called the house about a dozen times but she didn't answer because she was hosting one of her lunches for the wives at dad's firm. After she heard that she felt a lot better, besides, I told her that if I was going to come second to anyone I'd rather it was you than the gorgons."

Mac couldn't help but smile at that. So Adele's righteous indignation at her daughter's neglect of her brother was her own guilt talking? That made him feel a little better. But he was still confused.

"Then what does she feel guilty about?" he asked.

Dan sighed.

"Because, she's spent the last three days sitting by the bedside of her invalid brother and the whole time she's been wishing she was with you."

Mac blinked in surprise.

"She has?"

Dan rolled his blue eyes at him.

"Of course. I have a near death experience and all she can think about for three days is you and how you probably resent her for going home with us. Mom had to use all the tricks she has to stop her calling you. Of course I didn't help," he smirked at Mac, obviously proud of the small part he'd had to play in getting Claire back to her own apartment. "Eventually she gave up and said she was going home. You should have heard the row; and then when she finally gets there she runs into you and she feels worse because you're all concerned about me and about her. She cracked Mac."

Dan looked suddenly serious.

"She's never had a boyfriend she could really rely on, certainly never one as important to her as you are. She's just a little lost, and kinda scared. And of course now she thinks she screwed up big time after she gave you the cold shoulder last night."

Mac shook his head.

"She didn't screw anything up," he said quietly. "To be honest it was your mom I was mad at."

"Yeah well, you're not exactly her favourite person either so I guess that's fair."

Mac turned to him.

"Why do you stay there?" he asked, finally voicing the question he'd been wanting to ask for a long time.

"Because I'm lazy," was the honest reply. "And a little bit of a coward. I pay no rent, I don't have to worry about anything. If I tried to do what Claire did I'd end up in a homeless shelter inside of a month."

Mac smiled slightly and shook his head.

"I think you underestimate yourself," he said.

Dan laughed shortly.

"I think it's time I was going," he said.

Mac helped him to stand and they went to the door.

"You had the cab wait?" asked Mac in surprise, seeing the car parked at the curb.

Dan grinned at him.

"Told you I was lazy."

Mac helped him into the back. He was about to close the door when Dan put a hand on his arm.

"You love her right?" he said, his face quite serious once more.

"Yes."

"Just making sure. See you around soldier. Oh and tell your friend in there he has a cute butt."

As the cab pulled away Mac waved and shook his head in amusement.

* * *

_"He sounds like a pretty smart kid."_

_He nods and gives a small snort of laughter._

_"Of course if you told him that he'd look at you in horror and tell you to take it back."_

_"Did it bother you? What he said about Claire being scared."_

_He shakes his head, his face pensive._

_"No. I didn't exactly have the best track record myself."_

_"But you thought you could get past it?"_

_He looks him straight in the eye, his voice soft._

_"I loved her. I'd have done anything to make it work."_

_"So what did you do?"_

* * *

When Claire opened the door she looked a little better than she had the night before. She smiled shyly at the proffered bouquet.

"I love you," he told her gently.

She took a step forward, taking the flowers from his hand, hiding her face behind the blooms.

"Sorry," she murmured.

"For what?" he asked. "For being tired and angry and wanting space to think? You don't have to apologise for that."

"I'm sorry I didn't call," she said, still not looking at him.

"Don't worry about it. Dan told me all about it."

"My brother shouldn't have to explain things for me," she said, finally looking up at him. "No one should. No one but me."

He held her gaze.

"Then do you want to explain it to me?" he asked levelly.

She bit her lip, her eyes drifting back to the floor for a moment.

"You can talk to me Claire," he continued gently. "You can tell me anything, but only if you want to."

She nodded silently, looking back up into his eyes.

He took a step forward, taking her in his arms so she was pressed against his chest, the flowers dangling from her fingers over his shoulder. Bending his head he planted a kiss against her neck and then one beside her ear before pressing his cheek to hers and rocking her slightly in his grasp.

"I love you," she whispered into his neck.

"I love you too Claire," he murmured in return.

The he kissed her, a long, slow kiss that warmed the cold hallway. When they pulled apart there was colour in Claire's cheeks and a little of the sparkle seemed to have come back to her eyes.

"Come on," he said, "let's go inside."

They moved into the apartment, the door swinging gently closed behind them, leaving the hallway empty once again.


	17. Near Misses

**Apologies again for the extremely late update. I've had a lot of work to do this last week or so. But thankfully it's all done now so hpefully I can go back to updating a bit more regularly now. I hope you are all still enjoying this story and I hope you like this chapter. Love to all.**

* * *

**Chapter 17: Near Misses**

_He gives him a moment, the memory clearly a fraught one._

_"Were you home for much longer?" he asks gently._

_"Only a few more days."_

_"And?"_

_"And, Claire went to work and I hung around the shop and in the evening we sat on the sofa and… and then I went away again."_

_He looks down at his hands, clasping and unclasping them._

_"Were things different between you?"_

_"No, she wrote just like before and I wrote back like before. But…"_

_"But you were worried about her mother?"_

_He gives a deep sigh._

_"It was difficult. I kept wondering what she was saying behind my back." He looks at the floor, a hand running through his hair and a catch in his voice. "I loved Claire more than anything, but every time one of her letters was delayed I kept wondering whether that was it, whether Adele had won."_

_* * *_

But Mac needn't have worried. Convinced of Adele Conrad's abhorrence of her son, Moira had taken it upon herself to look after Claire in Mac's absence.

More so than before, she would invite Claire to dinner; she gave her lessons in baking so that Mac was constantly on the receiving end of food parcels filled with muffins and cakes and all sorts of other goodies. She got to know Dan and would spend evenings chatting to them in front of the television, Betsy tucked up between them on the sofa while they pored over Mac's latest letter or old photographs of him at school.

Dan went back to the shop to talk to Tucker and soon Dan, Claire, Tucker and Lisa had become an almost inseparable unit; going out at the weekends and hanging around the shop on their off days. Claire and Dan were spending more time together than they had in years and Claire was, for the first time in a long while, happy.

But Adele hadn't given up quite yet. She saw her daughter slipping through her fingers again, and she tried everything to bring her back. She held parties and invited hosts of attractive young men with good prospects; but Claire only smiled and nodded at them when they tried to flirt with her. She found out what nights Claire had plans and created family emergencies to stop her going; but Claire figured out soon enough that she was faking and stopped taking her calls. She feigned illness, claiming to be bedridden after a nervous breakdown and demanded that her children be with her; but they quickly grew tired of her antics and when Dan threatened to move out she was forced to admit defeat for the moment.

By the time Mac returned home again her snobbish dislike of her daughter's boyfriend had turned into full-blown hatred. But Claire was not to be dissuaded, in fact she seemed more deeply in love with him than she had been before.

His first night home Claire cooked a meal for all of their friends at Moira's house. Afterwards they lay around the living room, stuffed to bursting but happy.

"You know I hate to say it," Mac said, stroking her hair as she cuddled up to him on the sofa, "but I think you might just be a better cook than mom."

Claire blushed and Moira laughed.

"I don't know about that," said Tucker from the other side of the room. "It takes a whole lot o' somethin' to be better than Mrs T."

"Oh Tucker," said Moira, blushing herself and swatting at him while Mac mouthed the words "kiss ass" in his direction.

"How about, just as good?" suggested Lisa, by way of compromise.

"Now that I will agree to," said her boyfriend, giving her a squeeze.

"To good food and good women," piped up Dan from the floor, where he was stretched out on the rug beside Betsy, rubbing her ears.

"Hear, hear," they all chorused.

Later, as they were all getting ready to leave, Mac grabbed Claire's arm and shook his head.

"Oh no," he said, wrapping his arms around her so that she was trapped against him, "you're not going anywhere."

"Wasn't planning on it," she told him, leaning in to plant a warm kiss on his greedy lips.

"Ew, can we please leave now?" asked Dan from the doorway. "There are things a little brother should never have to see."

The others laughed and finally made their way out of the door to where Tucker's car was parked outside the house. They waved goodbye and then made their way to bed.

"See you in the morning you two," said Moira sleepily as she kissed them both goodnight.

"Night mom," said Mac gently.

"Night Moira."

Alone in Mac's room at last they curled up together beneath the sheets, for once too tired to do anything more than simply fall asleep in each others arms.

* * *

The next morning everyone slept in and Claire had to make a dash for work. When she'd finally managed to extricate herself from Mac's amorous embrace she fled the house, a piece of toast clenched in her teeth, waving wildly as she ran down the street.

Mac stood in the doorway, watching her go, a broad grin on his face. Inside the house he could hear his mother pottering around in the kitchen, Betsy at the back door.

The phone rang.

"Mac honey, can you get that? My hands are covered in bacon."

Coming back into the house he grabbed the phone from its cradle.

"Taylor," he said cheerily into the mouthpiece.

"Hey soldier, it's Dan."

"Hey kid, what can I do for you?"

"Well, dad promised to buy me a car for my birthday next month so I was wondering if you wanted to come with me and have a look at a few things? I'll buy you lunch."

Mac laughed.

"Sure, why not."

They arranged to meet at a dealership in town and then Mac hung up.

"What are you up to today?" asked his mother as he sat down at the kitchen table and she slid a plate of bacon and eggs towards him.

"Dan wants me to help him pick out a new car."

Moira raised an eyebrow.

"Does Dan know that you know nothing about cars?" she asked.

Mac pouted at her.

"Just because I'm not a petrol head like Tucker doesn't mean I don't know anything," he informed her.

She only smiled at him and patted him on the shoulder.

"Whatever you say honey," she said.

* * *

Mac didn't really know much about cars, but then, neither did Dan. They wandered around a few different dealerships, asking dumb questions about stuff they didn't really understand, taking note of the ones that looked good and cost a lot.

They grabbed a couple of burgers and ate them in the park.

"Come on back to the house," said Dan, when they were done. "Mom just got a new cocktail shaker and I've been practising my martinis."

"I don't know," said Mac quietly.

It wasn't that he objected to spending time with Dan, or even to drinking in the middle of the afternoon; in fact these were both pastimes which he usually found very acceptable, however, in this instance he was concerned that an invitation to the Conrad house might result in his running into Adele.

"Don't worry," said Dan, reading his mind with startling accuracy, "the wicked witch is visiting her coven, she won't be back until later."

Mac chuckled slightly.

"Okay, why not."

They took a cab and Mac insisted on paying the fare.

"Such a gentleman," Dan sighed lovingly as he climbed out of the back, which garnered Mac a funny look from the driver.

Mac rolled his eyes and instructed the guy to keep the change before climbing out himself.

"You know one of these days that mouth of yours is gonna get you into big trouble," he muttered to Dan as they entered the house.

Dan only winked at him and led the way through to the lounge and the liquor cabinet.

However they had barely finished pouring the first round of martinis when they heard the front door open and Adele's voice called out.

"I thought you said she wouldn't be home until later," hissed Mac, looking around desperately for a way out.

"Broomsticks fly faster than I thought," muttered Dan.

Just then the lounge door opened and Adele Conrad's steely gaze fixed on Mac. He felt like one of those bugs you see in museums, transfixed to the wall by a long, sharp needle.

"What are you doing here?" she asked sharply.

"We were having a drink mother, care to join us?" asked Dan easily, lifting a glass and sipping, but she ignored him.

"Why are you in my house?"

Mac could see no other way out than to talk to her.

"Dan invited me in for a drink," he told her, his voice quiet but firm.

"Dan is supposed to be at work," she said icily.

"Actually I have the day off," said Dan. "I swapped shifts with Tracy."

"Really? How very kind of you to tell me."

She might have been speaking to her son but her eyes never left Mac and her voice remained cold and level.

Mac couldn't stand it any more.

"Listen," he said, "it's time I was leaving anyway. Thanks for the drink Dan but…"

"You're not going anywhere," said Dan pointedly, shoving the other martini glass towards him. "You're my guest."

Somewhere in the hall the telephone began to ring.

Three people stared at each other in silent defiance.

"Daniel, be a dear and answer the telephone."

"Mom I,"

"Answer the phone Daniel!"

Biting his lip slightly Dan gave in.

"I'll only be a minute," he muttered, dashing out of the door.

As soon as he was gone Adele rounded on Mac.

"You are not welcome in this house," she hissed at him.

Mac had had enough.

"You know what, that's it! I'll go, but before I do I want to make one thing perfectly clear; you do not own Claire. If she decides she doesn't want me around any more then that's fine with me, but it has to be of her own free will, because I love her and I will fight for her and if she wants to be with me then it's none of your damn business!"

He marched towards the door.

"How dare you!" she screeched after him. "Get out of my house! How dare you tell me how I may or may not treat my own daughter!"

Mac slammed the door on her tirade, striding down the corridor towards the hall. He ran into Dan half way there. The young man looked pale and worried.

"Mac! I was just coming to get you."

"What's wrong?"

"It was your mom on the phone."

Mac's heart rate instantly went up.

"What's wrong, what happened?" he asked quickly.

"Nothing, she's alright. But she said there was a call for you from the marines. They left a number and you've to call back immediately."

He handed Mac a slip of paper with a number scrawled across it. Mac rushed into the hall towards the phone and dialled quickly. He knew, just by looking at the number that it was a direct line to someone important.

Dan stood next to him, a nervous frown marring his pale brow.

As soon as the call connected he saw Mac stand straighter.

"Lieutenant Taylor reporting," he said, his voice clipped and authoritative. If it wasn't for the fact that there was clearly something wrong Dan would have made a remark about it being sexy.

"Afternoon sir… No sir, I was not of aware of that… What happened?... When?... Yes sir… Thank you sir… Goodbye sir."

Mac's jaw was clenched as he put the phone down.

"What's going on?" asked Dan in concern.

"Something happened, my leave's been cancelled. I'm to report back immediately. They're sending a chopper to O'Hare to take me to the nearest base to fly back out."

"Now?" Dan's jaw dropped.

"The chopper will be there in a little over an hour. I have to go, but…" he trailed off and Dan nodded in understanding.

"Look, go home and pack and I'll get Claire and we'll meet you at the airport."

A faint smile touched the corners of Mac's mouth.

"The chopper pad around the back, near hanger three. Just tell them you're with me."

"Okay."

"Thanks Dan."

"Don't worry about it, now get going."

Mac nodded again and dashed out of the door, grabbing a passing cab.

Dan gnawed on his lip for a moment before reaching for the phone again.

"Daniel?"

He turned to see his mother, looking with interest towards the door.

"Did he leave?" she asked with studied curiosity.

"Yeah, he's been recalled to his unit."

"Really?" She arched an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I have to call Claire, he leaves in an hour."

"Of course."

Something unreadable flickered behind her eyes.

"I'll call her," she said carefully. "You go and find a cab to take you to the airport and I'll call ahead and let her know."

Dan frowned at his mother's sudden helpful attitude. He could only assume that, left alone while he had taken the call from Moira, the two of them had made up in some way. But it did make sense, by the time he called her, picked her up and got to the airport they would have very little time left.

"Sure," he said, grabbing his jacket and heading for the door. "Just tell her Mac has to go and I'm coming to take her to him."

"Alright sweetie, I'll see you when you get back."

Dan ran out of the house and down the street.

Back in the hallway Adele looked down at the telephone for a minute before picking it up and dialling.

"Hello there, I'm looking for Claire Conrad, is she available?"

"I'm afraid not," said Cindy's voice on the other end. "She's giving viewings all afternoon; she's not expected back in the office until tomorrow. Can I take a message?"

"Oh no, that's quite alright. Thank you."

Adele put the phone gently back into its cradle and smiled.

* * *

Mac asked the cab to wait, rushing into the house and pounding up the stairs. His mother followed him with concern on her face.

"Mac honey, what's going on?"

"I've been recalled," he said, quickly stuffing things into his bag. "I have to leave immediately."

Moira nodded silently. It had happened before, not very often, but occasionally, and it was always something important.

"I'll get your things from downstairs," she said quietly, disappearing from view.

A few minutes later she appeared again and Mac took the proffered items, throwing them in on top of his clothes and pulling the drawstring tight. Normally he was a neat man, but time was not on his side. The chopper would wait for him, but the longer it did the more pissed off they would be.

"Do you have everything?" asked Moira and he glanced around quickly.

"I think so."

"What about Claire?"

"Dan's picking her up from work, they're gonna meet me at the airport."

Moira nodded and then, unable to stop herself she threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. Having him leave on his appointed day she could just about live with, but having him ripped away like this, after only one night at home, for god knew how much longer, that she simply couldn't stand, and she could feel the hot tears starting to crawl down her cheeks.

Mac held her tightly.

"I love you mom," he whispered quietly.

"I love too honey."

She pecked him lightly on the cheek before wiping her eyes and stepping away.

"Go on now. You don't want to keep them waiting."

Mac bent and gave her another kiss before running back down the stairs and out into the waiting cab.

Alone in his room, Moira sat down on the edge of the bed. Betsy came sniffling up the stairs and poked her head into the room.

Moira held out her arms and the little dog limped over to her and somehow managed to scramble up into her lap. Moira gave the dog a squeeze, allowing her to lick her face in sympathy.

"I do miss him Betsy," she murmured. "I miss him so much."

* * *

Across town Dan rushed into Claire's office at break-neck speed, calling her name loudly.

"She's not here," Cindy told him.

"What do you mean she's not here!" he exclaimed. "Where the hell is she then?"

"Showing a house."

Dan exploded; what the hell was she doing showing houses when Mac was about to be sent back to the other side of god knows where?

At the sound of Mac's name Cindy's ears pricked up. As one of Claire's best friends she was well aware of the feud going on between her mother and her boyfriend and was very much on Mac's team, as were most of Claire's friends.

On hearing that he had been recalled she immediately gave up the address of the apartment Claire was supposed to be showing just then and promised to call and give her a heads up. Unfortunately, when she tried to get through there was no dialling tone and she slammed down the phone in disgust.

Looking at the clock she only hoped that Dan got there in time.

* * *

When he'd first gotten into the cab Dan had offered the guy five hundred dollars to go as fast as humanly possible, wait for him, and not argue; so far the cabbie was earning his money.

Screeching to a halt outside the address Cindy had given him Dan ran into the brand new apartment complex and stopped outside the elevator, desperately pushing the button.

After a minute or so of nothing happening the doors finally slid open and Dan stepped in, stabbing the floor button and slamming his fist into the wall as the thing began to creep upwards painfully slowly.

By the time it reached the correct floor he was tearing his hair out and as the doors slid open once more he made a mad dash down the corridor and only just avoided colliding with a middle aged couple who were coming out of the apartment he had been heading for.

Claire was just behind them and she raised her eyebrows quizzically at the sight of her younger brother, out of breath and clearly highly agitated.

"Dan?"

But she got no further. Dan simply grabbed her hand and, calling an apology to her clients as he did so, began to drag her back down the corridor.

Claire fought against him.

"Dan, what the hell are you doing?" she asked angrily, trying to shake free of him.

He stopped for a moment and looked her in the eye. There were far too many things flying around in his head, including the fact that his mother had clearly lied to him about calling Claire, otherwise Cindy would have known. He was tired and pissed off and they had very little time so he said the only thing he could think off that would get Claire to move.

"Mac," he said.

It worked.

* * *

As he made his way across the airport towards the helipad Mac kept his eyes peeled for signs of Claire, but he couldn't see her.

A guy in a boiler suite with a walkie-talkie greeted him outside the air-hanger and told him the chopper had been slightly delayed but it would be there in ten minutes.

Mac nodded and made himself comfortable, leaning against the outer wall of the hanger, his bag at his feet. But after a little while there was still no sign of Claire, and the chopper was now clearly visible on the approach.

Mac frowned. He knew that if Claire didn't appear that she would have a perfectly good reason; perhaps she wasn't in the office and they couldn't find her, maybe she got stuck in traffic, maybe her mother somehow got in the way.

Briefly the thought that she had changed her mind and didn't care whether he left crossed his mind, but he dismissed it. Now was not the time to start questioning whether or not Claire loved him. But still… where was she?

The steady whop whop whop of the rotor blades could now be distinctly heard and the grass on the edge of the helipad leant backwards on itself as the chopper began to descend.

Mac picked up his bag and sighed.

The helicopter landed lightly in front of him and he bent to make his way towards it.

"Lieutenant Taylor?" called the pilot over the ear-splitting noise.

"Yeah."

The guy in the boiler suite threw his bag in the back and motioned for Mac to climb aboard. He was half way in when the pilot swivelled in his seat and tapped him on the shoulder. Turning he saw him point back out towards the runway. Mac frowned and twisted to look out through the window towards the security fence. There was a guard there arguing with two small blonde figures who were gesturing wildly towards the chopper.

"Friends of yours?" shouted the pilot.

Mac didn't answer. Instead he jumped from the helicopter and sprinted across the tarmac towards the fence.

"I'm sorry but I can't let you through there," he heard the guard say.

"Claire!" he yelled and he saw her look up.

"Mac, oh my God Mac!"

The guard turned around and eyed him up.

"Sir?" he said.

"Please, my name's Lieutenant Mac Taylor, I'm supposed to leave on that chopper right now, this is my girlfriend, please let her through."

The guard looked him over and then gave a slight shrug and opened the gate.

Claire flew into his arms, holding him so tightly he felt he might burst.

"Oh God I am so sorry," she said. "I'm so sorry. Dan said mom lied about getting in touch with me and then he didn't know where I was and then Cindy tried to call but the phones haven't been connected and…"

She would have gone on but Mac kissed her soundly, holding her as close as possible.

"It's alright," he murmured when they pulled apart. "It's alright."

"I'd never have forgiven myself if I hadn't been here," she whispered in his ear.

"I know. I love you."

"I love you too. I love you so much."

They held each other tightly for a few moments longer and then they kissed again.

"Bye," he mumbled against her hair.

"Come home safe. Come back to me."

"I always will."

He kissed her again and then finally pulled away. He turned and headed back towards the waiting chopper while Claire waved, Dan just behind her, his hand on her shoulder.

Mac clambered back on board and the pilot took off. As they soared into the air he looked down and saw her there and smiled, blowing a kiss he knew she couldn't see.

"Girlfriend?" asked the pilot and he nodded. "Dedicated."

Mac grinned again.

"I know."

* * *

Back on the ground Claire continued to stare up at the sky as the chopper faded from view. When it was completely gone she balled her hands into fists.

"Let's go home," she said softly. "I have to talk to mom."


	18. Lazarus

**Happy New Year everyone! Sorry about the extended hiatus but my beta is MIA. She's been gone for months now with no word so if anyone else wants to take over please give me a buzz: I just need someone to read over the chapters for this story and make sure they aren't complete gibberish. Also, if I get a new beta you will get more updates ;)**

**Anyhoo, hope you enjoy this one.**

**Jill xx**

* * *

**Chapter 18: Lazarus**

Exactly what Claire said to her mother Mac never found out, but two days after he had retuned to his unit he received a note from Dan which said simply, "Claire 1, the Bitch 0."

He discovered later that even the usually mild Jacob had waged in and told his wife to leave Mac the hell alone. But he felt guilty, like it was his fault that the Conrad's had ceased to function as a family. He wrote Jacob a letter, apologising for having caused any trouble and asking that he would pass on the apology to Adele for whatever it was she felt he had done. The reply never reached him.

* * *

_"I was MIA."_

_The other man frowns._

_"What happened?"_

_"I'm not supposed to say."_

_A raised eyebrow and a sceptical look._

_He sighs._

"_The mission I was on was classified and although I'm not officially a marine anymore I'm still bound not to reveal certain information."_

_A nod._

"_Alright then. What can you tell me?"_

"_There's a time lag between you being MIA and presumed dead. As soon as that happens they inform your next of kin. Because the mission I was on was considered extremely dangerous the time between the two was shortened." _

"_They called your mom?"_

"_And she called Claire."_

* * *

When Claire didn't show up for work the third day in a row everyone got worried. Cindy called Dan and he told her about Mac. When the boss asked where Claire was Cindy lied and said she had the flu.

No one had seen Claire since Moira called. If she was home she wasn't answering the door, or the phone. Dan had tried a hundred times to get her to talk to him but to no avail. Both Tucker and Lisa had tried to coax her out but the result was the same.

It was early one morning when there was a sharp knock on the door.

"Claire!"

No reply.

"Claire, its mother!"

Nothing.

"Claire Louise Conrad open this door right now before I call the police and get them to break it down!"

"Go away." It was so soft Adele had to put her ear to the wood to hear it properly.

"Claire darling, please open the door?"

"Go away!" An angry shout this time.

"Not until you open up. You should be ashamed of yourself, hiding away like this. It's utterly selfish! I raised you better than that. What about the boy's poor mother? Dan and his friends have been there every day and you just hide away in there like an animal, you selfish, selfish girl! You were supposed to be in love with him!"

Adele opened her mouth to say more but no words came out, only a loud sob. She covered her mouth, her hand touching her face only to discover that there were tears running down her cheeks.

Angrily she began to beat against the door with both fists.

"She's lost her son! She's lost her son!"

The door swung open furiously to reveal Claire, pale and incensed, her fists clenched by her sides.

"And you would know all about that would you!" she yelled.

But Adele squared up to her, shoulders back, head thrust forward.

"You're not the only person in the world to have lost a child Claire."

"You didn't lose me mother, I ran away!"

"I'm not talking about you, you selfish little bitch!"

Claire's hand came up sharply, smacking her mother across the side of the face, knocking her off balance, making her slam backwards into the opposite wall.

All of the colour had drained from Adele's face, except where the outline of Claire's palm showed up red against the pallor. Her eyes were wide with shock and, still standing in the doorway, Claire could only look at her in disbelief.

There was a long, heavy silence. Down the corridor Claire could faintly hear the creak of a door as another tenant strained their ears to hear what would happen next.

Adele finally pulled herself away from the wall, her hand coming to touch the inflamed spot on her cheek.

"I deserved that," she said quietly.

Claire didn't answer.

Adele swallowed and then, her hand still covering the mark on her cheek, she turned to go.

"Who were you talking about?" Claire called softly.

Adele stopped, turning slightly to look at her daughter.

"We had a child before you" she said heavily. "A little boy. He died when he was four. All the first-borns on my side of the family die young."

And then she was gone and Claire was left staring down the empty corridor, a creeping sickness in the pit of her stomach, guilt laying heavily across her heart.

* * *

Moira was just leaving the house when she heard her name being called. Looking up she saw Claire, pale and ghostly in the early Autumn mist.

The young woman was biting her lip, her arms wrapped around herself, shivering. She hung her head, blinking silently at the pavement for a moment or to before looking back up.

Moira gave her a watery smile and opened her arms.

"Come here my love," she said gently.

Claire fell into her warm embrace, sobbing heavily onto the older woman's shoulder.

Moira pulled her down so that they were both sat upon the doorstep, Claire crying in her lap while she stroked her hair and hummed, silent tears leaving marks upon her own face.

Beside them on the step, Betsy nuzzled the two women, comforting them the only way she could.

* * *

"_How long were you missing?"_

"_About two months."_

_He gives a low whistle._

"_That's quite a while."_

"_Tell me about it."_

"_What happened when you reappeared?"_

"_I got checked out at the hospital and then I was debriefed."_

"_When did they let you go home?"_

"_Couple of days later."_

"_Your mom and Claire must have been pretty relieved when they heard you were okay." _

"_I don't think mom had cried so much since dad died."_

"_And Claire?"_

* * *

"She's in New York," said Moira.

She and Tucker had come to pick him up at the airport and bring him home. Mac thought that perhaps Claire would meet them there but when he entered the house he found only Betsy, bouncing with excitement at his longed-for return.

Now Tucker was gone again and Mac was alone with his mother and the dog and he was able to ask the question which had been bothering him since he stepped off the plane and noticed the absence of the angel, the vision of whom had kept him going through his ordeal.

"What's she doing in New York?" he asked in confusion.

His mother looked down at the floor.

"She's been offered a promotion," she said softly. "They want her to transfer to New York and manage their new office there. She decided to go take a look, make it a kind of vacation."

"You didn't call her?" he asked incredulously.

"I tried to honey, but she didn't tell anyone where she was staying, not even Dan. I think she wanted a little time to herself."

Mac felt panic building inside him. Claire was gone; she didn't know he was alive. She could be in some bar in New York right now, some guy hitting on her, letting him buy her drinks while he listened to the story of how her Marine boyfriend had died overseas.

Moira could see the pain in his eyes as he thought about it. Claire wasn't due home for another three days and she knew how much it would hurt him to wait that long.

She reached out to place a hand on his shoulder.

"There's a flight to New York later this afternoon; it should only take a couple of hours. There's a ticket for you in the kitchen."

He stared at her in disbelief.

"What?"

"Mac honey, I know you won't be easy until you see her again; and if anyone can find her you can."

"But what about you?" he asked softly.

"You're safe," she told him firmly. "I've seen it with my own eyes. That's all I care about."

He pulled his mother into a tight hug, kissing her cheek warmly.

But before he went to find Claire there was something he had to do.

* * *

Taking a deep breath he knocked at the door of the Conrad house. It was opened by Dan who threw himself at the Marine as soon as he saw him.

"Oh my God, Mac!"

"Hey kid," he said, hugging him back. "Good to see you again."

"Good to see me! We all thought you were dead and all you can say is it's good to see me?"

There were actually tears threatening the corners of Dan's blue eyes.

Mac gave a small smile.

"Tucker gave me a hook in the stomach for scaring the crap out of him," he informed him.

Dan managed to laugh at that and pulled away.

"Yeah, well we both know I'm not that macho."

Mac laughed too but quickly became serious.

"Listen Dan, is your dad home? I need to speak to him."

"Sure, he's in the kitchen, come on in."

As they made their way through the house Dan said nervously, "You uh, you know Claire's in New York right?"

"My mom told me."

Dan didn't have time to answer because the door to the living room opened as they passed and Adele appeared. She looked momentarily shocked to see Mac.

"It's you," she said, although her voice held none of that accusatory tone it usually had when she addressed him.

"Ma'am," he said tightly, nodding to her.

He turned to continue following Dan but Adele called out to him.

"Wait a minute!"

He stopped again and turned to look at her.

"Yes Mrs Conrad?" he asked with careful politeness.

Adele looked troubled, as though she weren't entirely sure what to say.

"I'm glad you're alright," she said finally. "For your mother's sake, and for Claire. Especially for your mother."

Mac thought about the note he'd received from Dan and wondered, not for the last time, what had happened during his absence.

"Thank you ma'am," he said with gentleness.

Adele Conrad might be a snob and a bitch, but Dan was right; somewhere under there, there was a mother.

"We're looking for dad," Dan cut in. "Is he still in the kitchen?"

"I think so, but why do you want to speak to Jacob?"

Mac smiled slightly.

"Maybe you should come too. There's something I want to ask you and your husband."

* * *

It was still only early Autumn but it was already cold in New York.

Claire had thought the change of scenery might be what she needed, but it was just another city. The skyline might be different but underneath it was all the same; the same bars, the same stores, the same people. She felt Mac's absence here just as much as in Chicago; it was like having a gaping hole in her stomach that couldn't be patched up no matter what she did.

Not that she had really been trying. She wasn't interested in moving on, not yet. She wasn't even sure she'd take the job here, she'd just wanted to get away from everything.

She'd gone to see the new office, talked to the boss there, but her heart wasn't in it. The small part of her mind which wasn't occupied with Mac was thinking about her mother and what she'd said that dreadful day she'd come to the door.

In her now numbed state she could almost understand why her mother behaved the way she did; why she clung so tightly to herself and her brother, why she had been so against Claire keeping her own son. Claire could not quite bring herself to condone her behaviour, but she could, now, see why she had acted as she had.

The day she had last seen Mac the two women had had a massive row. Claire had told her to leave her relationship with Mac well alone. Adele had attempted to explain that she was acting in Claire's best interests; Mac had little money and few prospects and she was not prepared to see her daughter become a neglected army bride, living in a cheap condo near a military base with choppers hovering overhead at inconvenient hours of the day and night. She had known a girl who married a Marine; within five years she was suffering from depression and attempting to cope with four young children while her husband romped around the globe. He died in action and his wife took an overdose on hearing the news; the kids went into care. How could Claire expect her to sit by and watch as the same fate befell her own daughter?

Claire had calmly told her mother to shut up and leave her the hell alone.

Fate must be on her mother's side, she thought. It had cut Mac down before their life together had had a chance.

She wrapped her arms around herself and shuddered in the biting cold.

She was standing on the roof of her hotel; she'd come up to take a look at the view and to get away from the sound of her neighbours having energetic sex.

"You shouldn't stand so close to the edge," a voice behind her said.

She sighed. Great, she thought, caught by a hotel attendant.

She turned around, ready to tell the guy to shove off as politely as possible. But she stopped.

The man before her wasn't a hotel attendant. He was wearing a heavy overcoat and a small, crooked smile.

She gaped, not sure she really believed what she was seeing.

"Mac?" she gasped uncertainly.

He stepped forward.

"Hey," he said.

"Mac!"

She practically screamed his name this time as she threw herself into his welcoming arms, embracing him fiercely, reassuring herself that he was solid and real.

"They said you were dead."

He pulled her chin up from where she had buried her face into his coat.

"You know, there's a big difference between _actually _dead and _presumed _dead," he said.

She gave him a laugh that was part sob and hugged him all the tighter, planting firm, loving kisses across his face.

"Where were you? What happened?" she demanded.

"I'm not allowed to tell you. But I'm okay and I'm here with you, that's what matters."

She ran her fingertips lightly over his features.

"Okay," she whispered.

They stayed there like that, holding each other, for a long time.

When Claire was finished crying she looked up at him with bright, shining eyes.

"How did you find me?" she asked. "No one knew where I was staying."

"I could find you anywhere," he told her gently, kissing her again.

She kissed him back, warmth finally filling her body against the night's chill.

When they pulled back they turned to look out over the lights of the city in the darkness.

"Claire?" he murmured, now behind her, her body leaning easily back against his.

"Hm?"

Slowly he reached into the pocket of his overcoat and removed a little black velvet box which he held up for her to see.

"Will you marry me?" he asked softly.

She turned in his arms, surprise and joy mingled on her face as tears began to slip from her eyes once more.

"Mac?"

"Claire," he said seriously, "I can't tell you what happened to me, but I can tell you that all the time I was gone I couldn't stop thinking about you. I promised myself that, if I got out of there I'd ask you to marry me, because I love you more than anything and if I didn't have you to come back to I don't know that I would have had the strength to keep going. I love you Claire, please marry me?"

"Yes," she whispered, leaning in to kiss him passionately once more.

Mac pressed the little box into her hand and she pulled away long enough to open it.

The ring was quite plain, a simple silver circle with a small, round diamond at the top.

"Do you like it?" he asked in concern.

She laughed and kissed him on the tip of his nose.

"Mac, you could have given me the ring out of a box of crackerjack and I would still love it!"

He grinned, watching her slide the ring onto her finger.

"I love it, and I love you and I want to marry you so much I can't wait."

He kissed her again and her fingers, raked through his short hair, his hands roaming her back beneath her thin jacket. She moaned into his mouth and felt him pull her tighter against his chest; the need to touch growing ever stronger.

"Um, you know you're not supposed to be up here?"

They both jumped at the sudden interruption and turned to see a nervous looking kid in a hotel uniform, half hiding behind the fire door that led onto the roof.

"Sorry," muttered Mac. "We're coming in."

As they made their way back across the roof something occurred to Claire.

"Where are you staying?" she asked him as they stepped inside.

Mac blushed slightly.

"Nowhere. I uh, left my bag in a locker at the airport. I just wanted to find you."

Smiling, Claire turned to the kid in the uniform.

"Do you have any double rooms vacant?" she asked.

"Uh, sure. You want an upgrade?"

Taking Mac's hand and grinning at him she said, "Yes, _we_ do."

"No problem, I'll get you a new key."

As the kid disappeared Mac raised his eyebrows at Claire.

"How much does a double room here cost?" he asked.

She laughed.

"Don't worry. The company is covering the trip."

"In that case," said Mac, swinging her up into his arms while she giggled. "How about champagne for breakfast?"


	19. Dinner and Decisions

**I'm back, and with a shiny new beta in the shape of lily-moonlight; many thanks to her for her help. Just a short chapter this time, hope it's enough to bide you over for next time :D**

**love to all and thanks for sticking with me on this story, Jill xx**

* * *

**Chapter 19: Dinner and Decisions**

Mac woke next morning to the pleasant sensation of Claire snuggling against him.

"Hey," she whispered, noticing his eyes begin to flicker open.

"Hey," he replied, leaning in to kiss her; automatically rolling onto his back and pulling her with him so that she landed on top of him.

Claire giggled breathlessly before planting another kiss on his eager lips. But he pulled away a little more quickly than before and gave her a quizzical look.

"What?" she asked.

"I asked you to marry me last night didn't I?" he said and Claire nodded.

"You certainly did."

"And you said yes, right?"

"As far as I remember," she told him with a little smile. "Why?"

He grinned.

"Just making sure," he said, pulling her lips back to his.

Claire laughed.

They lay together a while longer until Claire gave a groan and sat up.

"Much as I'd like to stay here all day, I'm afraid I have meetings to go to."

"Meetings?" he asked.

"Yeah." Claire frowned. "You do know why I'm here don't you?"

He shrugged slightly.

"My mom said you got a job offer out here."

"Yes."

"But…" Mac was having trouble with this. "But that was when I was, you know." He didn't want to say "dead".

"So?"

"So, now I'm back."

Claire sighed heavily.

"Yes," she said gently. "And last night you asked me to marry you. Marriage costs money Mac. I'm being offered a lot to transfer here. This could be good for us; a new start."

"You want to leave Chicago?"

She reached out to touch his face.

"Mac, right now the only thing I'm sure I want is you. I love you."

He took the hand which stroked his cheek, kissing her palm.

"I love you too. I just don't know if I want to leave Chicago for good."

She squeezed his fingers.

"We don't have to do anything just now. I have time to make my decision. Let me go to these meetings and then we'll go home and think about it okay?"

Mac looked into her eyes. He could see the wisdom of her suggestion.

"Alright," he said, pulling her into his arms, kissing her softly.

"Okay then. Now," she gave him a little grin, "I think I remember mention of champagne for breakfast don't you?"

"Anything for my fiancé."

* * *

There was a small welcoming committee waiting for them when they landed in Chicago. Mac had called his mother to tell her that Claire had said yes, not that she had been expecting her to refuse. Moira had told Tucker, Dan and Lisa and the four of them had descended upon the airport with a banner and a few boxes of confetti which they tossed around liberally.

Moira hugged Claire while Tucker slapped Mac on the shoulder and Lisa and Dan buzzed around like kids on a sugar high, begging for details on how Mac had proposed and whether they had set a date.

They piled into Tucker's car and he drove them back into town.

"Mom and dad want to take everyone out to celebrate tonight," Dan informed them.

"Mom wants to celebrate?" asked Claire, her eyebrows disappearing beneath her fringe.

"Your mom and I have reached an understanding," Mac told her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

"And what would that be?"

"She can have you back when I'm finished with you," he said with a sly grin.

"Oh she can, can she?" said Claire, elbowing him slightly. "And when do you think that might be?"

"Never," he whispered, kissing the corner of her mouth.

"Mm, and does she know that?"

"Nope."

"Best keep it a secret then huh?"

"Definitely."

They kissed again and Dan pulled a face.

"Really sis, it isn't fair of you to flaunt your soldier boy in my face," he moaned.

"Feeling left out?" teased Claire.

"Yes," huffed Dan.

Claire laughed and wrapped her arms tighter around Mac.

"Sorry little brother, he's mine. Now, tell me more about this dinner."

* * *

_"Did Adele behave herself?"_

_A smirk._

_"Yeah. She was pretty quiet, talked to my mom for a bit."_

_"She and your mom get on?"_

_"Not so you'd notice. I think my mom was still pissed that she hadn't warmed to me straight off."_

_"Natural I guess. How was Claire?"_

_He pauses, the smirk widening into a full smile._

_"She was glowing." _

_* * *_

Not even the presence of her mother could make Claire's mood darken. She was bright and bubbly the whole evening; laughing and chatting with her father and her brother, showing Lisa the ring when she asked every few minutes, smiling shyly at Mac and kissing his cheek.

Mac felt on top of the world; at least, he did until someone asked Claire about New York. A small knot of uncertainty began to form in his stomach, especially when Claire started talking about how beautiful the city was and how nice everyone at the office had been.

Later on, while Claire was asleep in his room, he crept downstairs to the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of milk.

"Something on your mind honey?"

Mac turned and smiled at his mother.

"Am I that transparent?"

Moira smirked at her son.

"You just got engaged and you were quiet most of the way through dinner. What's wrong?"

Mac sighed and plonked himself down at the kitchen table.

"I think Claire wants to take that job in New York."

Moira took the chair opposite him.

"It's a good job," she said. "Extra money."

"Money isn't everything," he murmured.

"True."

"I just… I don't know if I could live somewhere else." He looked up at her mournfully. "I can't just leave you all alone like that."

Moira gave her son a stern look.

"Mac, I told you when your father died that I never wanted you to use me as an excuse for anything. If you and Claire decide to move to New York, I'll manage."

"We haven't decided anything yet mom."

Moira stood and moved around beside her boy, patting him lightly and kissing him on the temple.

"Whatever you decide sweetie," she said. "As long as you're happy, I'm happy."

She left the kitchen and Mac heard her go back upstairs. He sat in the kitchen a while longer, thinking.

It was almost an hour later when he crept back upstairs and slipped back into bed beside Claire.

"Mac?" she mumbled sleepily, eyelashes fluttering.

"Go back to sleep baby," he whispered, wrapping his arms about her.

"'s everything okay?"

"Everything's fine."

"Love you."

"I love you too. Go to sleep."

Claire snuggled up against him, falling back into blissful sleep. Mac stroked his fingers through her hair and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

"Everything's fine," he whispered once more before he dropped off to sleep as well.


	20. In the Heat of the Night

**Hey guys, I'm back again. Sorry it's so long between updates right now, real life sucks. Anyhoo, here's the next chapter for aall those who are still bothering to read. Enjoy :D**

* * *

**Chapter 20: In The Heat of the Night**

_"You agreed to move to New York?"_

_"We talked about it. New life, new start. Seemed like a good idea."_

_"Adele approve?"_

_A small smile touches his lips._

_"She didn't have a choice."_

_* * *_

There was a short, sharp argument when the move was mentioned. Adele said over her dead body, Claire said it could be arranged.

Jacob offered to buy them an apartment.

"Call it a wedding gift," he said. "Only the best for my baby girl and her man."

Mac tried to refuse but Jacob only shook his head.

"You deserve it," he said.

Moira told him not to look a gift-horse in the mouth. He gave in.

* * *

Planning the wedding was a lot simpler than he had anticipated. Claire and his mother fixed it up between them, with a little help from Lisa and the girls from the office. They were sad to see her go but looked on the wedding as a kind of going away party.

Occasionally Adele would flit through. Much to everyone's surprise she kept out of the plans as much as possible, clearly unwilling to stir up more ill-feeling. The only thing she insisted upon was that she help choose Claire's dress.

Tucker and Dan took over the plans for Mac's bachelor party.

"Just don't do anything crazy alright?" he begged.

"Don't worry man," said Tucker, patting him on the shoulder. "Everything's taken care of."

Mac twisted his hands.

"Tuck," he said quietly, "there's something I wanted to ask you."

"What is it?"

Mac stared at the floor for a minute.

"Will you be my best man?"

Tucker stared at him. His dark eyes were slightly damp.

"Sure man," he replied, just as quietly. "Sure."

Tucker took a stumbling step forward and the two friends hugged each other tightly. Tucker clapped Mac on the back.

"I'm gonna miss you," he said.

"Gonna miss you too Tuck."

They pulled apart and Tucker wiped his damp eyes.

"Come on," he said, "you got me goin' soft here."

They both laughed.

"Anyway," Mac said, "about this party. You gotta promise me there won't be strippers okay? Claire would kill me."

Tucker grinned.

"Can't promise nothing Mac," he said happily. "Can't promise nothing."

* * *

The night before the wedding Mac was getting ready for his party. He was at home and his mother called up the stairs to say Claire was on the phone.

Rushing down the stairs Mac grabbed the phone from his mom who smiled at him before disappearing back into the living room.

"Claire?"

"Hey handsome. Looking forward to tonight?" asked Claire.

"Not as much as I'm looking forward to tomorrow."

He could almost hear Claire smiling.

"How about tomorrow night?"

Mac groaned. "Claire, don't. I'd much rather be with you tonight."

"Hush," she said. "You know Tucker and Dan have been working hard on this."

"I know," he sighed. "What do the girls have planned for you?"

"Cocktails and dancing mostly."

"No strippers?"

She giggled. "Even if there were, none of them could hold a candle to you."

He grinned down the phone.

"I love you," he said.

"Love you too. See you tomorrow."

"Yeah."

She disconnected and Mac hung up, sidling through to the living room to find his mother. She was on the couch, Betsy in her lap.

"Stop fidgeting," she said, smiling at him.

"Can't help it," he said, pacing the room. "Just so damn nervous."

Moira smiled and held out her arms, allowing her son to slump onto the couch beside her, her arms around him in a hug.

"You'll be fine sweetheart," she said.

Mac snuggled into his mother's embrace a little more. "I know," he murmured.

Moira kissed his temple.

"My little boy," she whispered.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while until a boisterous knock signalled the arrival of Mac's friends. He dragged himself from the couch to open the door, nearly ending up on the carpet as several young men bowled through the door.

"Mac! Hey man, how you been? The big man getting' married. Didn't think we'd miss this did ya?"

Mac's eyes bugged as he was embraced by several of his marine buddies from his unit and basic training.

"What the hell!" he exclaimed.

Tucker and Dan stood in the doorway, grinning.

"Thought you might like to see a few friendly faces before you tie the knot," said Tucker.

Mac laughed as his friends gathered him up onto their shoulders and began to sing a chorus of For He's a Jolly Good Fellow. Moira appeared in the doorway of the living room.

"Well now," she said. "Looks as though you boys are all ready for a big night out."

"Yes ma'am," said Tucker.

She smiled.

"Just don't get him into too much trouble. After all, he's got somewhere to be tomorrow."

* * *

Claire and her friends were at a cocktail bar up town. There was a tiara on her head and a garter on her leg and she had already consumed the contents of at least three pitchers of alcohol.

The girls were laughing and dancing to the music over the sound system. But it was getting late and Claire was thinking about calling it a night.

Just then the door of the bar opened and a dishevelled looking Tucker wandered in, looking nervous.

"Tuck!" squealed Lisa, diving up from her seat to throw her arms around her boyfriend.

"Hey baby," he said. "Claire still here?"

"I sure am," said Claire, approaching the couple. "What's up? Mac go home already?"

"Um, not quite."

Claire frowned. "Tuck?"

Tucker was looking at the ground.

"What happened?" insisted Claire, panic now taking over. "Is it Mac? Is he okay?"

"He's fine," he reassured her. "It's um… it's Dan."

* * *

By the time Claire, Lisa and Tucker arrived at the emergency room Dan was being discharged. Mac was with him, but the rest of the bachelor party were nowhere to be seen.

Claire advanced towards her brother purposefully.

"What the hell did you do!" she shouted.

Dan turned at the sound of her voice and immediately ducked behind Mac. But Claire grabbed him by his jacket and swung him around.

Dan's eye was black and there was a bandage on his forehead. The knuckles of his hand were also bandaged and two of his fingers bore splints.

"Jeese, Claire," he said, trying to pull away. "Do you have to shout?" He looked pitiful.

"It's not his fault Claire," said Mac soothingly, putting a hand on her shoulder.

Claire flashed him a look.

"Tucker says he hit on a drunk marine," she said. "What the hell was he expecting to happen?"

"Thought he'd drunk enough not to notice," muttered Dan.

Mac sighed. "Okay yes, he did something dumb. But Marty shouldn't have hit him."

Claire glared. "Where are they?" she asked through gritted teeth.

"I sent them back to their hotel," Mac said. "They won't touch him again I promise."

Claire glanced at Mac's own grazed knuckles, the small bruise near his hairline. She reached out and touched the mottled flesh. A small smile came to her lips. She turned to look back at her brother, a giggle escaping her lips.

"You are such a dumbass," she said.

Dan grinned.

Claire wrapped her arms around Mac's waist.

"Take me home?" she asked sweetly.

"You know its bad luck for the bride and groom to spend the night before the wedding together," said Lisa in a warning tone, but Claire only shrugged.

"Who cares," she said.

Mac leant down and kissed her. Tomorrow was going to be a hell of a day.


	21. Ding Dong!

**Hey everybody, I'm back again. Sorry it's been so long but much uni work has been required to be done :) Anyhoo, this is the chapter you've all been waiting for, THE WEDDING! Yipee! A little bit of smut here, but nothing too bad. Hope you enjoy.**

**Thanks to Lily for the beta.**

* * *

**Chapter 21: Ding Dong!**

It was like going into battle, thought Mac. No, it was worse than that, at least when he went into battle he knew what it was he was supposed to be doing. Today he felt totally lost.

He was at home, Tucker was with him, the place seemed oddly quiet.

"Is there something I should be doing?" he asked for the thousandth time.

Tucker rolled his eyes. "Relax man, everything's gonna be fine."

Mac slumped. "I just feel so useless waiting around here."

"Well stand up straight, you'll wrinkle that uniform," Tucker told him with a smirk.

Mac glared at him and glanced in the mirror again, straightening his dress uniform, smoothing out invisible creases.

Moira bustled into the room, Betsy bouncing at her heels. She stopped when she saw Mac and patted his shoulder affectionately.

"You look so handsome," she told him. "Just like your father."

Mac flushed as she turned him around by the shoulders and reached up to kiss him on the cheek.

"I'm so happy for you," she said.

"Thanks mom."

"Hey Mrs Taylor, how about me?" asked Tucker with a grin, striking a pose in his tux.

Moira laughed. "You look handsome too honey," she replied.

Betsy barked her agreement. Somewhere a clock chimed.

"Time we was headin' off," said Tucker.

Mac took one last look in the mirror. In just under an hour he would be a married man. And boy was he looking forward to it.

* * *

_"What kind of service was it?"_

_"Just a civil ceremony. Claire wasn't religious and I wasn't gonna force her."_

_"Were there a lot of guests?"_

_"Mostly Claire's friends."_

_"And you were nervous?"_

_He raises an eyebrow. "Isn't that normal?"_

_A smirk. "Yes."_

_A smile touches his face. "Felt like my stomach was trying to jump out through my mouth. But when that music started and she came through those doors… I still dream about that moment."_

* * *

She was beautiful. Claire was always beautiful but today she seemed to glow. Her simple white dress and the little white flowers in her hair made her look sweet and fresh and a broad smile lit up her face as she made her way towards Mac, her arm tucked happily into that of her father.

Behind her Lisa and Cindy floated along in pale green, Cindy eyeing up the uniformed marines who had come to see their brother get hitched. Dan stood off to one side, his black eye covered with pancake make-up, also keeping a hungry if surreptitious eye on the marines. Adele stood near the front in a huge, flower be-decked hat that looked like it should be on display in a florists.

But Mac didn't see any of them; all he saw was Claire and her smile.

The registrar talked for a while about love and marriage and special bonds and Mac zoned out, just grinning at Claire. Her eyes flicked towards him and she grinned back.

He kept staring at her, in a world of his own until he felt a kick at his ankle from Tucker and realised that the registrar had asked him a question.

"Huh?" he asked and everyone in the room chuckled.

"The ring," hissed Tucker, thrusting it into Mac's hand.

"Oh, right," he muttered, taking it from his friend and slipping the plain gold band onto Claire's finger while she watched with an amused expression.

Upon instruction Claire gave him his ring and they said their _I do's_.

"Then I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Claire didn't need to be told twice and she practically launched herself at Mac, who caught her happily while everyone in the room cheered.

* * *

The sun had long since gone down when Mac and Claire were ushered into the honeymoon suite of their swanky downtown hotel. The party had been downstairs in the restaurant; there had been a three course meal and a live band. Claire had danced with just about everyone and even Mac had gone for a spin with a surprisingly tipsy Adele, minus her hat. The whole event had been topped off when Tucker announced that his wedding present to the happy couple would be his pride and joy, the Cadillac.

"Tuck, are you sure?" asked Mac in surprise.

Tucker shrugged. "It's the best I got," he said, "an' you an' Claire deserve the best. Besides, you guys are movin' and you ain't got no car…" he trailed off and gave another shrug.

Mac gave him a massive hug.

"You better take good care of my baby," Tucker murmured as he handed over the keys.

"You bet I will."

The party was still on downstairs, but Claire had said she was tired and wanted to get some rest so she and Mac had slipped away upstairs. But Claire seemed to get a new lease of life as she entered the room and proceeded to race around bouncing on the bed and throwing open the curtains to look at the view.

"This place is amazing!" she cried, making Mac laugh as he tossed aside her shoes which she had discarded in the elevator.

"I thought you were tired," he said, sitting on the edge of the massive bed and looking around appreciatively. Their night here was a present from Jake. "Only the best for my little girl," he'd said when he handed over the key.

Claire grinned and slunk towards him like a cat. "I lied," she purred. "I just wanted to get away from that party. And besides," she reached him and slid her hands over his chest and shoulders. "I have been wanting to muss up that uniform all day."

Mac laughed, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into his lap. "Well," he said, "this is your lucky night."

Claire giggled as he kissed her hungrily, her fingers stroking the back of his neck. His own fingers strayed to the zipper on her dress and the garment was quickly disposed of.

Claire shoved him back on the bed, straddling him as she began to slowly unbutton his uniform. Mac groaned beneath her.

"Claire honey, please," he whined, attempting to help her speed things up. But she batted his hands away.

"No way," she said. "This is my present and I want to take my time opening it."

Mac pouted. "Not fair," he muttered.

"Do I have to tie you up?" she asked. Mac's eyebrows went up and she leant forward, her lips bare millimetres from his ear. "Or would you enjoy that?" she whispered.

"You couldn't if you tried," came his slightly strangled reply.

"Oh really?"

Her weight shifted slightly and she kissed him hotly, her hands running up and down his arms, stretching them up above his head as her nails trailed over his muscles and then…

"What the hell!" exclaimed Mac as he felt something tight around his wrists and Claire sat up with a victorious grin.

"Told you I'd do it," she said and Mac shifted his head so he could see.

Much to his disbelief Claire had in fact managed to tie his hands together with something blue, lacy and elastic.

"Is that your garter?" he asked in shock.

"Yup. Not so tough now are you big guy?"

Mac laughed. "My wife is a resourceful woman," he said as she continued her slow task of removing his uniform.

Claire gave a little whoop of delight when she unbuttoned his shirt and discovered Mac wasn't wearing an undershirt. Her fingers and lips automatically took over, teasing his skin while he groaned and tried to shift his arms into a more comfortable position.

Giving up on his chest, Claire moved to his pants which made her husband moan even louder, much to her delight. When he had been stripped to her satisfaction she slowly removed her own underwear which had Mac's eyes almost popping from his head and his arms straining to be free.

Leaning forward once more she finally released his hands and his arms automatically closed around her, flipping her onto her back where he pinned her.

"My turn," he growled in her ear and Claire let out a squeal of delight as he lowered his head to hers.

"I love you Mac Taylor," she moaned into his ear.

"I love you too Claire Taylor."

"Mm, I love the sound of that Mac."

"Me too."


End file.
